


From This Day Forward

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Culture Shock, Krypton, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-30
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kal-El of the House of El must marry a wealthy Terran for diplomatic reasons, Krypton will never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From This Day Forward

The sun glowed crimson as it peeked over the horizon, turning the spires of Kryptonopolis scarlet with morning light.  Usually the sight filled the heart of Kal-El with joy, but today he watched it with glum foreboding.

Today was his twentieth birthday.

Today was the day he would meet his betrothed for the first time.

He sighed and made his way through the gardens on his way to work at the Kryptonopolis Star.  He had just started working at the holo agency a month ago, over his father's strenuous objections.  Apparently being the son of the Savior of Krypton meant he wasn't supposed to pick up some job "peddling information."  Jor-El's actions two decades ago, alerting Krypton of its danger just in time to avert its destruction, had propelled the House of El to become one of the most powerful houses of Krypton.  Kal didn't see why that fact should hamper his job choices, though.  He loved his job, even though it took up most of his time. 

How was he going to balance that and a _husband_ , too?

Especially a _human_ husband?

Kal sat down at his desk and started going through the feeds of the day, wincing as he discovered his own marriage next week was the lead story.  He felt his mood becoming more and more stormy.  It wasn't _his_ fault his house had been one of the five most powerful on Krypton when Hasel Lor-Oph had discovered the jump gates that had linked Terra and his home!  When the Terrans had discovered the effects of yellow-sun radiation on their new very near neighbors, relations had been quite strained for a time.  Only some extremely deft negotiations had managed to stabilize diplomatic ties to a delicate detante, neither planet willing to break the treaties and risk retribution by the rest of the civilized galaxy.

One of the stipulations the Kryptonians had insisted on was that five of the heirs to the most powerful houses of Earth come to Krypton to wed Kryptonians and live--a sort of implied hostage situation carefully phrased as an "opportunity for cultural exchange."

And thus did Kal's life take a decided turn for the unexpected about a year ago, when he had been summoned to his father's study and informed that he was now engaged to a human.  Kal had stormed and fumed, but his father's will was inflexible:  unless Kal wished to provoke an interstellar war, he would be wedding a human.  Jor-El pointed out that Kal should feel _lucky_ that they had taken the sexual orientation of the heirs involved into consideration, but Kal had felt anything but lucky.

He sorted through the holofeeds to piece together the best possible story about the "fairytale wedding" between the Houses of El and Wayne, shuddering as he picked out footage of Gotham.  Terra was a hideous backwater of crime, filth, and superstition, and he had no doubt at all that this "Bruce Wayne" would be a hopeless provincial like the rest of his fellow-Terrans. 

Oh, Kal had done his research when he found out his fate.  He had learned English, he had studied Terra's barbaric and bloody history.  He had even--in secret, without telling his father--taken a jump gate to Gotham to see what kind of city his future mate was from.  He had returned appalled at the disparity between rich and poor--apparently humans measured power by _wealth_ rather than by _knowledge_ , and the Waynes had a great deal of the former.

No one seemed to have much of the latter.

He had even gotten a glimpse of his betrothed as he stood outside a hotel for some social event.  Bruce Wayne had been handsome enough to impress, with a face entirely empty of all intellect and compassion.  Kal had watched as Wayne nearly tripped over a homeless man in the street, then laughingly peeled off a couple of bills to toss to him as a show of power to the people in his party.  Kal's stomach had turned at his glibness:  he was being wedded to _this?_ He had hoped against hope, as he researched the House of Wayne, that a man who had suffered the loss of both his parents would have _something_ in his eyes beyond pride and preening, that the extensive traveling he had been doing had brought him some measure of depth and enlightenment.

No such luck, it seemed.

Kal's eyes ached with exhaustion as he finished editing the story and handed it to his editor, who took it with a knowing smirk.  He turned to another story, trying to ignore the churning in his gut as he resolutely did not focus on the fact that he would be talking to Wayne for the first time tonight.

Those beautiful, soulless eyes...Kal shuddered and bent back to his work.

**: : :**

"--And I simply _cannot_ live without my beloved dog and my faithful butler!  They _must_ come as well."  Bruce Wayne's list of demands was so long and detailed that Kal began to suspect he was trying to be difficult on purpose so the Kryptonians would give up on the wedding and choose someone else to avert an interstellar war.  Kal rather wished Wayne could pull it off, but he knew the rigidity of the Kryptonian system all too well.  If it was to be Bruce Wayne, it would be Bruce Wayne.

"We will happily make space for this...Ace and Alfred you name on the Estates of El," Jor-El explained patiently.  Kal wondered which was the dog and which the butler.

Bruce looked a bit desperate.  "And all members of the House of El are to speak to me in English, as I cannot be bothered to learn your impossibly unwieldy language!"

Kal knew his father well enough to know that Jor-El was refraining from rolling his eyes with a great effort.  "We all have already learned your language, my future son-in-law."

"It's a rather _simple_ language, after all," Kal said in English, breaking silence for the first time.

Bruce's back went a bit stiff, but he didn't turn to look at Kal.  He hadn't looked at Kal since he entered the room with his list of demands, and Kal felt obscurely peeved by this.  The human looked down at the list again.  "I insist on a full Kryptonian wedding!  No short cuts!"

Kal felt his mother go tense at that, but Jor-El merely nodded.  "Certainly.  Do you have any other requirements to ease the transition to your new life?"

Bruce stared at the list.  "I...no.  That was the last one." 

He sounded quite deflated, and the sting of pleasure Kal took in his dejection made the Kryptonian feel suddenly guilty.  He cleared his throat and stepped forward.  "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Wayne.  I hope that we can work out an acceptable partnership."  He swallowed hard and held out his hand in the way Terrans did on meeting someone.

Bruce eyed the hand glumly and for a moment Kal worried that he'd picked the wrong custom for this region of Terra.  They seemed to have a bewildering array of ritual behavior...But then he realized Bruce seemed to be deciding whether or not the snub the handshake.  After a long, tense moment, he took Kal's hand and met his eyes for the first time.  "We all do what we must," the human said distantly, then let go of the hand quickly and left the room.

The minute the door closed behind him, Lara was pacing the room and wringing her hands.  "How are we _ever_ to get a full wedding together in just a week?" she wailed.  "The cake alone takes a full six days to make!"

Jor-El pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and eyed his son with the first glimmers of sympathy Kal had seen in years.  "Our son is getting married to a vain, preening simpleton, Lara, and you're worried about the _cake?"_

Kal felt hope spring inside him.  "Does this mean you'll try to have the marriage stopped, Father?"

Jor-El shook his head, sadly rather than sternly this time.  "I'm sorry, son.  It's the only way."

"I _must_ find a bakery that takes rush jobs!" Lara cried, heading for the door.

No way out.

**: : :**

Kal adjusted his crimson robes and tapped his ivory staff on the floor, sighing.  The last week had been a daze of preparations and Bruce had gone back to Gotham to prepare himself for the move;  they hadn't seen each other since that handshake.  _"We all do what we must."_   Was it possible Wayne was as opposed to this marriage as he was?

It didn't seem possible _anyone_ could be as opposed to this marriage as he was.

The door opened and Bruce entered, wearing his white robes and carrying his mahogany staff.  He looked at Kal guardedly and Kal had to admit he made a pretty picture.  If only the human were a civilized man of science, Kal would probably be happy to share his bed.

"We're supposed to have a talk now," Kal explained politely in English.  "Unburden our hearts to each other."  They were also supposed to dress each other, but he had managed to get out of that one.   


  
Bruce cast his deep blue eyes downward briefly.  "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the last time we met," he said.  "You seem...nice.  And I hope we can get along."  He looked back up, his eyes limpid.  "Nothing else burdening me."

  
Kal felt a twinge of disappointment.  He had rather hoped that _now_ , at least, he could find some depth in the man he would be forced to share the rest of his life with.  "I'm sorry I've been so resistant to the idea of this marriage," he said softly, trying to be honest.  "I don't...I'm afraid I don't have a very high opinion of Terrans.  But I'll try to be a good husband to you.  I promise."

  
A brief, dazzling smile.  "Thank you," Bruce said.  He gestured to the door and Kal took his place by his side with a sigh.  Together they left the Room of Preparation and began the walk toward their destiny.

  
The aisle stretched out ahead of Kal, impossibly long, lined on either side with curious Terrans and Kryptonians.  Bruce paused a moment, his eyes scanning the church, flicking along the balconies and chandeliers, resting briefly on the giant white cake to the left of the altar they would later have to enter and cut their way out of.  

  
"What is it, Bruce?" Kal whispered, a little surprised at his fiance's sharp and assessing glance.

  
"Nothing," said Bruce.  "Just...looking."  

  
They started down the aisle accompanied by the traditional music.  Everything seemed to be going fine until they reached the altar.

  
Then suddenly everything started happening very quickly.

  
Kal barely had time to register Bruce's sudden shove as the cake exploded into a hail of energy beams and flying frosting.  Out of the cake emerged three well-armed men in black, aiming at the grooms.  Kal grabbed Bruce's arm but Bruce broke free in the pandemonium and ran off, apparently fleeing at random in his panic.  Kal groaned and tried to dodge crackling energy blasts as the assassins honed in on him.  He had to get them away from the guests!  He briefly glimpsed his mother's terrified face as he charged up the stairs and into the empty balcony, the banister exploding into splinters around him.  Ducking behind a pew, he hoped he could just keep the gunmen occupied long enough for the people to get safely out of the church.  He hoped Bruce was safer than he was--

  
There was a rippling flutter of black and a figure arced across the church, swinging from one of the chandeliers and into the balcony where Kal was cowering.  Kal could only gape in amazement as his savior dispatched one of the assassins with a fluid grace and beauty, then dodged the fire of a second assassin to deliver a vicious kick to his jaw.  The final attacker drew a short blade from his belt and tried to close on the black-clad man, who swerved aside at the last second, the blade catching his black cape with a liquid ripping sound.  

  
Alarmed at his rescuer's close call, Kal charged forward to catch the assassin off-balance and club him over the head with a large copy of _The Holy Sayings of Rao._   The would-be assassin toppled with almost comedic slowness, and Kal abruptly realized that the church was now entirely empty save himself and the mysterious man in black.  He heard his own breathing, hoarse and quick, and he put the book down carefully.  The other man didn't seem to be out of breath at all.

  
"Thank you," Kal said awkwardly.  The man drew closer and Kal noticed for the first time that the cowl covering his face had pointed ears sticking up from it, making him look like one of the flying predators of the Mazhin Wood.  He shuddered and the man put out a leather-clad hand.

  
"Don't be afraid.  You're safe."  The man's Kryptonian had a slight accent to it that Kal couldn't place.  Perhaps he was a Mazhini?  That would explain the costume, maybe.

  
"How did you know--"

  
"That there'd be an assassination attempt?"  The man's chuckle was dark and dangerous and made Kal feel very odd indeed.  "That hardly takes complicated deduction.  But I'd picked up some chatter in the last few days that made it clearer what the means would be."

  
The man bent to recover one of the guns the assassins had been using.  He pulled something from his belt and used it to take the gun apart with brisk efficiency.  "Focused argon beams," he noted as Kal drew closer.  He pointed at some marks on the inside of the barrel.  "See?  Distinctive blast-shadow signature.  Jhal Farad-Ko's work, I'm guessing.  She's made some very major advances in argon-beam technology recently."  His voice turned musing.  "I hadn't realized she was applying it to weaponry so effectively..."

  
Kal could smell leather and sweat.  "What--wait, what do you mean, Jhal Farad-Ko?  She's one of our leading scientists!"

  
A snort.  "She's also dead set against the treaty between our two planets."  The man looked up at him curiously.  "Did you really think there weren't parties working against this as well?"

  
Kal leaned against a pew.  "I thought--I assumed these people were Terrans!  Kryptonians would never--"  Something the man had just said finally percolated through his whirling mind.  "You said--'our two planets.'  You're--a _Terran?_ "

  
The man--the _human_ \--stood up and drew nearer to Kal.  "We're not all as bad as you seem to think," he noted wryly.

  
Kal swallowed hard, remembering the strength and grace with which this man had protected him, the sparkling curiosity and intelligence in his voice as he discussed the weaponry--discussed it in _fluent_ _Kryptonian_.  "I...am forced to admit I may have been...rather prejudiced about Terrans."  

  
There was a ghost of a smile on those firm and chiseled lips.  "And would it shock you to learn that there is a teeming underworld of crime and corruption beneath your shining Kryptonian exterior?  People like Jhal misusing their power to gain more power, no matter who it hurts?"

  
Kal opened his mouth to fiercely rebuke the human for his temerity, to defend his people--and then he looked down at the assassins still crumpled at their feet.  "It would," he said in a small voice.  "But--" he met the black-clad man's eyes squarely, "--If it's true, let me help you to fight it!  If it's true, it has to be stopped!"

 

The human stepped even closer and, to Kal's surprise, reached up a hand to cup Kal's chin.  "I knew it," he murmured.  "I knew it the moment I saw you there in Gotham, burning with righteous rage.  Such passion.  I wanted you so in that instant--a naked flame of justice."  As Kal stood silent, shocked into wordlessness, the leather seeming to burn his skin, the other man continued, "But I did have to try and get out of it.  My Mission..." Kal could hear the capital letter, "...over before it could ever begin:  intolerable.  But now I wonder if maybe...maybe just the focus might change..."

Kal continued to stare at the man, captivated by the lilt in his low Kryptonian, by the intensity in his stance and the strength in his fingers.  Then suddenly the man let go of his face and backed away, preparing to leap from the balcony.  Kal was startled out of his near-trance.  "Wait!  You--you can't just leave," he stammered.

The man smiled slightly.  "You're right," he said huskily.  And then suddenly his mouth was on Kal's, completely sure and possessive, kissing Kal until his blood burned.  Nothing seemed to exist but this impossible, cryptic human--until the moment he stepped away.  "You've got a wedding to get to, Kal-El," said the man, and was gone.

Kal stared sightlessly over the balcony as the first police officers entered the church.  A wedding to get to.

**: : :**

Fifteen minutes later, he was beside Bruce Wayne and preparing once again to walk down the aisle, the church full of people waiting expectantly.  His betrothed was somewhat mussed but had taken cover with alacrity when the shooting had started and remained unharmed. 

The music started.  Bruce took a step forward.

Kal couldn't move.

Bruce shot him a look of concern.  "Kal?" he whispered.

"I can't do it," Kal said blankly.  His mouth still burned with the kiss that had claimed him, his ears still thrilling to the sound of that musical voice.  He shook his head as Bruce looked back at him.  "I can't do this."  He stared at Bruce, his thoughts in chaos.  "I'm sorry, Bruce, this wouldn't be fair to you.  I can't--I just met the most _amazing_ person, and I can't--I could never be a good husband to you, all I could ever think about was _him_ , I can't do this to you."  He was trying to keep his voice low;  everyone was staring.  "I can't.  I--I belong to someone else now, and I can't."

For some reason Bruce seemed more amused than alarmed at this turn of events.  He leaned close to the Kryptonian's ear.  "Kal. _Trust me_ , _heart of my heart,_ " he whispered. 

In fluent, slightly-accented Kryptonian, velvety and intimate. 

Kal stared at him.

Bruce winked.

The world fell into place.

The musicians started the second verse of the processional, the music a bit desperate now.  Kal smiled.  "Shall we not keep them waiting any longer, love?"

Together they started down the aisle to their future.

**: : :**

_Within a year, the first attacks on the laboratories had begun, files hacked and exposed, secret experiments opened to the light of day.  It soon became clear just how many prominent Kryptonian scientists were involved in arms dealing to prohibited planets, in making illegal viruses, in keeping key information from the rest of Krypton.  Murmurs began of the pair of vigilantes who were dedicated to truth, justice, and the true Kryptonian way.  Disguised as two of Krypton's greatest predators, they became legends--and no one ever suspected that they were the scion of one of Krypton's greatest families, side by side with his Terran husband._

_Nightwing and Flamebird:_ _their_ _world's finest heroes._ __  



	2. To Have and to Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their wedding, Bruce and Kal-El begin their "Month of Sweetness," in which the newlyweds are sequestered together for a solid month.

The church erupted in applause as Kal-El bowed to Bruce Wayne--no, not Bruce Wayne.  
  
Bruce-El.  
  
His husband and the newest addition to the House of El.  
  
Bruce bowed back, his lips curving slightly.  Kal knew already what those lips would feel like on his--warm and demanding and fierce, like they had been earlier that day when the strange black-costumed avenger had saved Kal from an assassination attempt, blowing to flinders Kal's prejudices about Terrans--and his pride in Krypton.  When Kal had found out his rescuer was also his fiance, his objections to the wedding had evaporated miraculously.  
  
Bruce bowed his head as Jor-El placed the wreath of scarlet flowers on it to welcome him to his new House, then the newly-wedded couple followed Jor-El out of the church, applause following them.  
  
Bruce shot him a warm and possessive glance, and his knees went rather wobbly.  What was he getting into?  
  
Whatever it was, he was getting into it with his whole heart.  
  
**: : :**  
  
Bruce poked gingerly at a piece of food with his utensil, as if afraid it would bite him back.  "What is this?"  
  
Lara's smile was brittle.  " _Zhol,_ a berry.  It's quite edible, I assure you."  
  
Kal sat next to Bruce and smiled back at his parents, trying to melt the frosty atmosphere in the room a little bit.  Jor-El and Lara were stiff and formal at this, their first dinner together as a family.  
  
Bruce popped the berry in his mouth, grimaced, and gulped it down whole.  "I'll have Alfred show you how to cook some _real--_ I mean, _Terran_ \--food."  
  
Lara's smile could cut steel now.  "I'm sure your slave will have many helpful cooking tips."  
  
"Servant," Bruce corrected hastily.  "Not slave."  
  
"Oh, they don't have slaves on Terra?  I didn't know that.  It's natural, of course, for lesser-developed worlds to go through a phase in which slavery plays a role--"  
  
Kal cut in quickly.  "I believe there hasn't been slavery on Terra for at least a century and a half, Mother."  
  
"Oh my," Lara said, "Almost two centuries slavery-free, how very enlightened."   
  
Kal sighed:  you slighted Lara's cooking at your peril.   
  
Jor-El was sawing at his food with a ferocious tenacity, trying to ignore the way his wife was glaring daggers at his new son-in-law.  "Well, my sons," he said mildly when the conversation seemed unlikely to progress any further, "Tomorrow your _tal talith_ begins.  We shall miss you."  
  
" _Tal talith?_ "  Bruce looked honestly curious although Kal knew he could translate the literal Kryptonian.  
  
"The Month of Sweetness.  After being married, a new couple is sequestered in a special section of the family compound for thirty days.  Food is delivered through a special door, and the couple is to have no contact with anyone but each other.  It's to get to know each other better."  
  
"Oh."  If Kal didn't know better, he could have sworn Bruce was blushing a little.  "We call that a 'honeymoon,' more or less."  
  
"You didn't know about the _tal talith_?"  Kal felt a moment's trepidation at the realization that even the most basic aspects of life might be unknown to his new husband.  
  
Bruce shook his head, the flash of annoyance on his face unfeigned.  "The Kryptonian government has very strict boycotts on books about Kryptonian culture.  I was given some language textbooks--not that I could learn your crazy language--but nothing else.  Neither culture seems to have much interest in understanding, or being understood."  
  
This time Lara's smile was a little more forgiving.  "Well, the _tal talith_ will be your opportunity for that.  Thirty days to reach a deep understanding with my son."  
  
"I'm looking forward to getting to know you intimately," Kal said solemnly.  
  
Bruce chuckled weakly, looking a little uncomfortable, and rubbed the back of his head.  "Yes.  Well.  Sounds great.  Thirty days.  Wow."  Under the table, his leg suddenly pressed against Kal's, and Kal felt himself flushing at this inappropriate behavior.  Yet at the same time he felt a sudden crazy impulse to lean over and wrap his arms around Bruce--he almost laughed at the image of his parents' expressions if he did something so scandalous in front of them.  
  
Being married to a Terran was definitely going to be a challenge.  
  
**: : :**  
  
"I'm so sorry, Alfred, I had no idea."  Bruce was apologizing for the fifth time as Jor-El and Lara--and Alfred in lieu of Bruce's parents--escorted them to the wing of the compound where they would be sequestered.  "You just get here and I abandon you for a whole month on an alien planet--I'm so sorry!"   
  
The older man patted Bruce on the back, and Kal saw his father's eyebrows rise.  Terrans were so _demonstrative_.  "I shall be fine, Master Bruce.  I'm hoping Lady Lara will show me how to make that delightful pudding-like dish I had when I arrived."  
  
Lara clasped her hands together almost girlishly.  "Oh my, that's my own special recipe--I should be honored to show you the method, Sir Pennyworth."  
  
Jor-El swung open the ornately carved vermilion door and cleared his throat.   < My children, you pass through this door into your Month of Sweetness, > he intoned gravely.  < Learn of each other and reach understanding, to return to us full in your love and your life. >  He bowed, followed by Lara and echoed by Alfred, and Bruce and Kal bowed back.  They passed through the gate side-by-side, and the door thudded shut behind them with finality.  
  
**Day One**  
  
Kal turned to complete the ritual bow to Bruce--and found himself up against a wall with his husband's body pressed against his, lips being parted by an assertive tongue, hands roaming across his body with reckless abandon.  "Kal, Kal, I thought they'd never leave us alone," Bruce said breathlessly.  "At last, God, thirty days with you and I intend not to waste a one of them..."  
  
Kal couldn't seem to help but return the kiss, feeling arousal burn his veins like wildfire.  But when Bruce's deft and exploring hands found his groin, he came to himself enough to grab the other man.  "What--what are you doing?"  
  
"What does it look like?  Making you mine, my flame, my life."  Bruce's voice was husky with lust and longing.  "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you, I've waited far too long."  
  
"Wait.  Wait."  Kal pulled away, frowning.  "You think the _tal talith_ is for rutting?"  
  
Bruce's face was blank with shock.  "Rutting?  No, honeymoons are for--" He gestured helplessly, "--making love.  You know.  Getting to know each other better!"  
  
Kal wasn't sure whether to laugh or put his hand through a wall.  "Does 'get to know you better' have some idiomatic meaning in English I don't know?  Because the _tal talith_ is not for physical copulation.  It's a highly spiritual time where couples attune their mental energies to each other and dedicate themselves to the rigors of a life together."  
  
Bruce blinked.  Then he blinked again.  "You mean...no sex?"  
  
"No _touching._ "  
  
"For a _month?"_   His expression would have been comic if it weren't so forlorn.  
  
"What do couples do on a Terran honeymoon?"  
  
Bruce smiled sheepishly.  "We...rut.  A lot.  But," he added hastily, "Usually we know each other pretty well _before_ we get married.  Most Terran cultures don't have arranged marriage."  His face took on an abstracted sort of satisfaction as he considered it.  "I suppose this would make sense in a culture where marriages were often arranged.  It would give couples a chance to connect mentally and emotionally before the physical joining."  
  
"There, you see?"  Kal smiled at him.  "It's a useful tradition.  And now," he said, moving toward one of the doors in the hallway, "I think we'd better get a good night's sleep.  Tomorrow we begin at dawn with mutual meditation."  When Bruce started toward the door with him, Kal shook his head.  "Your room is across the hall, Bruce.  Sleep well, my love."  
  
"A _month?"_ he heard Bruce groan as the door clicked shut behind him.  
  
**Day Two**  
  
Bruce tried to center himself and match his breathing to Kal's deep, even breaths.  It was very difficult when his new husband was sitting mere feet away from him, shirtless and shining in the crimson Kryptonian sun.  According to Kal, they were supposed to be "synchronizing their spirits" for two hours every morning in the compound solarium.  
  
Bruce slitted his eyes open just enough to watch the sunlight stream over Kal's shoulders, outlining and defining every muscle to agonizingly beautiful effect.  Almost two hours, and Kal hadn't once looked at him.   
  
Bruce was beginning to worry that perhaps the Kryptonian libido was calibrated radically differently from its Terran counterpart.  Perhaps passion simply wasn't part of the equation in a marriage here?  Perhaps he was doomed to lust after Kal hopelessly--no.  He closed his eyes again and breathed in deeply, remembering in every detail the kiss he had shared with Kal before the wedding.  The way Kal's mouth had opened to him, the muffled, hungry sounds he had made:  these were not the actions of a man incapable of passion.  
  
He just had to be patient.  
  
There was a soft chime from something that looked like a sundial on a wall and Kal took a deep, satisfied breath.  "I think that went very well, don't you?  I wasn't sure a Terran would be capable of meditating for so long."  
  
Bruce felt his mouth twist a bit sourly.  "We've got more patience and stamina than you might think."  
  
To his credit, Kal looked chagrined.  "I'm sorry, Bruce.  I know I have unenlightened--"  he stopped, grimaced, and backtracked, " _ignorant_ views about Terrans.  I'm not going to get over those overnight.  That's another good thing about this month, right?"  His eyes were conciliatory.  "Speaking of which, I know your Kryptonian is really good--would you rather speak in that language?"  
  
Bruce shook his head, pulling a loose white shirt over his head, since apparently his physique was not having the desired effect on Kal.  "For my cover, I have to pretend not to speak the language.  It's better if we don't get in the habit of speaking it to each other except in an emergency."  He hesitated.  "I'm sorry I was rude to your parents last night.  Your mother's cooking is very good."  
  
Kal wandered into the living room, not bothering to put on either shoes or a shirt.  His body moved with an unconscious grace, the loose trousers hinting at fine legs.  "It's going to be difficult, keeping that facade up."  
  
His voice was neutral, but Bruce felt reproached.  "If you trust your parents, I could...probably be honest with them," he said, unhappy with how grudging he sounded.  
  
To his surprise, Kal shook his head.  "My mother, perhaps.  My father?"  Kal flung himself onto a sofa, grimacing.  "It will take some time to convince my father that the Kryptonian system is flawed.  If it's possible at all."  
  
Bruce tried not to stare too openly at the sight of his husband lounging on the sofa.  "You were convinced fairly quickly."  
  
Kal's smile was wry.  "I realize now I've had doubts for some time.  I just didn't want to admit them to myself."  He nodded.  "We're in this together, Bruce."  Then his face lightened from determined back to cheerful.  "But that's the future, and that's not what today is about."  
  
"It's not?"  
  
"No, today is about the past.  The first day of the _tal talith_ is dedicated to discussing what led the new couple to where they are today.  You ask me anything about my past--anything at all--and I'll answer honestly."  
  
"Are you a virgin?"  Bruce was rather surprised to hear himself ask that, but if he could ask anything...and after all, they were married now...  
  
Kal didn't looked shocked or offended, although he might have been blushing slightly.  "I am not.  I have experienced sex..."  He glanced upward thoughtfully for a moment, "...with five different partners."  
  
"Exclusively male?"  
  
Kal nodded.  
  
"When was the last time you had sex?"  
  
Kal's lips tilted slightly.  "Are all Terrans as focused on sex as you, or are you unusual?"  He seemed honestly curious, but his tone was mischievous.  
  
"I believe I am...within the standard deviation for Terran male sexuality," Bruce said a bit stiffly, and Kal's smile widened a little.  
  
"I last had sex two years ago, during my school years.  My mate was a friend of mine, my lab partner, and we agreed that becoming sexual partners would help us work together better in the lab--consistent release of physical tension as well as positive reinforcement of interaction together."  Bruce felt his eyebrows quirk upward slightly, but Kal was continuing.  "My turn to ask you a question."  Bruce braced himself to explain his sex life, but Kal said instead, "Did you have a happy childhood?"  
  
Bruce blinked as his mind switched gears.  "I was...a solemn child, even before my parents were killed."  He saw Kal's eyes flicker at his last words and went on hastily, "I didn't have a lot of friends, but I was okay with that.  I read a lot.  I guess you'd say I was happy."  
  
"What happened to you after your parents were killed?"  Kal's voice was low.  
  
"The State tried to take me away for a foster home, but Alfred fought them."   
  
Bruce was going to continue, but Kal sat bolt upright on his sofa.  "Take you away from your House?  You, the last surviving member of the House of Wayne?"  His frown on young Bruce's behalf was thunderous.  "That's one of the most barbarous things I've ever heard of."  
  
His indignation was so intense Bruce had to hide a smile, but at the same time he felt oddly warmed.  "It worked out okay.  Alfred basically raised me all by himself in that big old house."  
  
"To raise a child for another's House is a noble sacrifice."  Kal's voice was solemn.  "He is a great man, and I shall pay him honor."  
  
There was another chime, and Kal rose.  "That will be our lunch.  Wait here."  He came back bearing a tray, a quizzical look on his face.  "What is this?"  
  
Bruce couldn't help laughing a little.  "Oh, Alfred."  On the tray next to the alien foods were something closely resembling two chocolate-chip cookies.  "He and Lara are either locked in a death match cook-off or getting along famously."  
  
They ate the lunch--Bruce savored the way Kal's eyes went wide at his first bite of cookie;  apparently there was no substance like chocolate on Krypton--and went back to talking as the sun's shadows lengthened across the floor.  By the end of the day Bruce knew what Kal's schooling had been like, what his favorite foods were, which books and philosophers he loved.  In return, Kal knew about Bruce's Mission and the years he had trained, where he had traveled, what he had studied.  
  
"How did you feel when you found out we were going to be married?" Bruce asked idly after supper, as twilight crept through the room.  
  
A long pause.  "Angry," Kal admitted.  "Frightened.  I knew so little about Terra, and I wasn't ready to be married.  I was afraid you'd be a brute and that my marriage would be nothing but pain and repulsion.  But after I saw what you're really like, there in the church..."  His cheeks reddened in earnest this time, and his voice dropped, "...I didn't mind any more."  
  
There was a long silence as Kal looked at him almost hungrily, and Bruce found himself on his feet and moving toward his husband.  Kal's gaze sharpened with something that could have been either trepidation or anticipation, but he rose to his feet as well and backed away with a slight bow.  "It's time for bed, Bruce.  I'll...see you in the morning for meditation."  
  
Bruce took a deep breath and smiled reassuringly so Kal didn't think the sex-crazed Terran was going to drag him away.  Not that he didn't want to.  "I'll see you in the morning."  
  
**Day Three**  
  
"Portrait day?"  Bruce's voice was a bit muffled as he pulled on a sweater after their morning meditation.  His hair was tousled by the clothing, his eyes bright, and Kal felt uncomfortably aware of his physical presence.  He had managed to keep his eyes closed all the way through the two hours of meditation again, but it hadn't been easy.  His thoughts had wandered inevitably from contemplation of the symmetry of their souls to the warmth that seemed to almost radiate from Bruce, the curve of his mouth, the angle of his hips when he sat across the room from Kal.   
  
It was contemplation of symmetry of a sort, he told himself.  
  
"We have to paint portraits of each other," Kal said cheerfully as he opened up the drawers and started to pull out the art utensils.  "Pictures that reflect the way we see the beloved."  
  
Bruce looked at a loss as Kal set up a couple of easels across the room from each other.  "Art is...not my forte," he said helplessly.   
  
"The skill doesn't matter.  What matters is the emotion behind the art."  Kal picked up some pencils and began some preliminary sketches, glancing over at Bruce's face to see if he was getting the angles right.  Bruce stood, staring at the welter of art supplies across the table, then reached for some chalks.  
  
Hours passed as Kal labored to get the effect exactly right, moving from pencils to tempura paint, muttering to himself angrily when he got a detail wrong and had to scrape the canvas and start over.  At midday the chime rang to announce lunch and Kal put his brushes down.  "Uh-uh," he said as Bruce moved toward his painting, "No looking until we're done.  I'll need a couple more hours."  
  
The meal was another odd mix of Terran and Kryptonian foods that seemed, somehow, to work together.  Lara and Alfred seemed to be getting along.  They ate in silence today, as Bruce appeared to be lost in thought, frowning over his food.  Kal let him ponder, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed as he thought, the gleam in his eyes, and angle of his cheekbones.  The portrait was supposed to capture his mate's soul, and yet Kal was unnervingly aware of his body.  It was a very odd feeling.  
  
The sun was setting as Kal put the final touches on his painting.  "I'm ready," he said, feeling awkward.  "I'll go first," he said hastily, turning his canvas around.  
  
Bruce looked at the painting.  Kal hoped it would have the effect he had aimed for.  The first thing that should catch the eye would be Bruce standing in the middle of this living room, his face blandly pretty, a scarlet flower tucked behind one ear in a foppish gesture.  One hand was raised to brush through his hair, a small coy smile on his face.  A portrait of a charming boy without a thought in his head.  Kal waited as Bruce's eyes passed across the painting, the eyes flickering almost warily until they stopped and fixed on something.   
  
"The mirror," Bruce said after a moment.  
  
Kal couldn't help smiling in triumph.  In the background of the room, among the vases of flowers and furniture, he had painted Bruce's reflection in a mirror.  The silly flower didn't show at that angle, and in the reflection Bruce's smile was... _shifted_ slightly, to look predatory and knowing, his eyes much deeper than the eyes of the "real" Bruce-El in the foreground.  It might have been poor art skills on Kal's part.  
  
Kal knew Bruce would know it wasn't.  
  
"You like it?" he said, knowing he sounded too eager, not really caring.  
  
Bruce was still staring at the painting.  "Yes," he said simply.  "I--yes."  
  
Kal moved to look at Bruce's easel and Bruce moved to block him reflexively.  "I'm...really not very good, Kal," he said.  "Just...letting you know."  He turned the easel around, biting his lip.  
  
His technique wasn't as good as Kal's, no--but that wasn't the point.  On the canvas, sketched in warm chalks, was Kal, crosslegged with his eyes closed as he had been in the solarium the last two mornings.  The sunlight poured over his skin, limning every muscle in ruddy gold, and a tiny trickle of sweat was just starting to work its way down his chest.  His head was thrown back slightly, the curve of his throat touched with scarlet sunlight as if reddened with kisses.  Kal stared, feeling ridiculously...vulnerable.  "You're not supposed to be looking while we're meditating," he said, surprised at how husky his voice was.   
  
"I'm sorry," Bruce said, not sounding particularly repentant.  "I can't help it.  I've been memorizing you."  
  
Kal sat down, feeling a thread of laughter struggling behind his indignation.  "Bruce, we're supposed to hang these in our sitting room for guests!"  
  
Now Bruce did laugh.  "Well, you didn't mention that."  He tossed himself onto the sofa next to Kal, snickering.  "I'll draw a more publicly acceptable replacement later.  And later," he went on, his voice dropping, "When I've had a chance to memorize all of you...I'll draw a private one for the two of us."  
  
Kal felt a wave of dizziness go across him at the hints and promises in that voice, followed by a wave of anxiety:  marriage was about a harmonious melding of minds and souls, not this desperate, prickling need.  There was something terribly wrong with their union, that he craved Bruce's touch so much, and as so much more than the release of sexual tension.  He wanted to feel that strong body underneath him, feel those hands close on his hips and pull him near, wanted to be kissed so hard it would leave him sore and bruised...  
  
He stood up abruptly.  "Thank you for the picture, Bruce.  It...means a lot to me."  Then he fled.  
  
Almost before the door closed he was fumbling with his drawstring, his hands shaking and hot on himself.  _Release of physical energy_ , he told himself, _a natural bodily function._   And then words and rationalizations fell away and he was imagining Bruce's mouth, Bruce's thighs, friction rough and demanding as what he wanted.  There weren't words for it.  He was lost somewhere without language for what he needed, lost without any words but _Bruce_.  
  
_Bruce.  
  
_**Day Four**  
  
Bruce was already seated on his cushion when Kal sat down across from him with a rather wan smile.  Bruce smiled back as non-threateningly as possible and closed his eyes, determined to keep them shut for the full two hours this time.  He was feeling deeply chagrined after spooking his husband so badly last night.  He was coming on too strong and too hard and it was upsetting Kal, he could tell;  he definitely needed to tone it down a notch.  That kiss in the church, that spark of fire between them--he couldn't risk smothering it entirely.   
  
So he kept his eyes resolutely closed the whole two hours and was thus surprised to open them at the chime and find Kal gazing at him hungrily--not even at his face, the azure gaze was roaming across his chest and lower.  He snapped his eyes closed again before Kal could notice, waiting, heart hammering, until Kal said, "Meditation time is up, Bruce."  When he opened his eyes again, Kal's face was as composed and friendly as ever--but Bruce _knew_ he hadn't been imagining the ravenous hunger in his gaze.  
  
He wasn't sure how much longer he could obey Kryptonian customs if he saw more evidence Kal wanted him.  
  
"So let me guess," he said as blandly as possible as he pulled on his shirt, "If two days ago was the past and yesterday was the present, that means today must be dedicated to the future."  
  
"Indeed," Kal said.  "Today we plan our life-path together."  They went back to the living room and Bruce sat down on his usual sofa;  after a moment's hesitation, Kal sat down next to him rather than on the sofa across the way, his back to one of the arms so that he was perpendicular to Bruce, his legs tucked under him.  "I suppose the first thing to discuss is the..."  He paused, looking for words.  
  
"The crime-fighting thing?"  
  
"Yes, the...'crime-fighting thing.'"  Their shared laughter seemed to break some of the discomfort between them.  "Will this involve actual running around and hitting things?  Because I'm in pretty good shape, but I'm not much of a fighter."  
  
Bruce frowned.  "At first, I think your role will be more tech support and research.  No way can I do this without someone helping me to understand Kryptonian society.  You wouldn't have to take on a costumed role, I don't think."  
  
Kal was tracing the patterns on the sofa, his eyes lowered.  "What if I wanted to?"  He looked up sharply as Bruce started to speak.  "I did train in Klurkor--only to the sixth discipline, but my master said I showed much promise.  You could train me."  
  
"Would you really want to?"  
  
Kal's eyes gleamed.  "I want to be by your side in all things, Bruce.  If you can teach me to not be a hindrance."  
  
"You--"  Bruce cleared his throat.  "You are unlikely to ever be a hindrance," he said carefully.  To have someone by his side, to not be alone...it was more than he had ever hoped for.  "I doubt the people of your word are frightened by bats," he said lightly to dissipate some of the intensity of the moment.  
  
"What is a bat?"  
  
"It's a...winged animal, on Earth.  People have superstitious fears about it.  My costume, the one you saw in the church...it's meant to evoke a giant bat."  He shrugged.  "Probably the first and last time I'll wear it, I suppose."  
  
Kal looked thoughtful.  "When I saw it, it reminded me of a predator of the Mazhin Woods, a nightwing.  It's a black bird with dark blue patches on its wings and sort of...horns, like the ones you had."  He smiled.  "It supposedly feeds on the blood of the wicked.  We frighten small children with it when they're misbehaving.  'The nightwing will come and drink your blood while you sleep if you tell a lie,' that sort of thing."  
  
Bruce's eyebrows rose.  "That sounds about perfect."  
  
"Even better, Nightwing is an ancient Kryptonian hero, a knight who fought injustice with his partner, Flamebird."  Kal laughed.  "I don't think I'd make a very compelling Flamebird."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Oh."  Kal waved his hands dismissively.  "Flamebird was a symbol of hope and courage, bright as the dawn and terrible as a thousand bared swords.  And look at me."  
  
"I am," said Bruce, his mouth slightly curved.  He couldn't help it--for a moment he could imagine Kal dressed in orange and gold, brilliant and dazzling.  Kal flushed and looked away, and Bruce struggled to get his expression back under control.  "This month would be a good time to start training," Bruce said cautiously.  "I could at least check and see how your reflexes were, if you could pick up some basic martial arts."  
  
"That, uh...that would require touching me," Kal said, still looking away.  "We're not supposed to."   
  
Bruce nodded, adding a wordless sound of agreement when he realized that Kal still wasn't looking at him.  After a moment, Kal went on, "But...it would be a shame to waste this month when we could be getting a head start on the Mission."  
  
"You--so--you," Bruce stopped himself and went on more carefully, "You'd be willing to train a bit?  I promise I'd behave."  
  
Kal shot him a look that would have been smouldering if it hadn't transmuted so very quickly back to guileless.  "Good."  He smiled slightly.  "I think we could use our morning meditation time tomorrow, if you don't mind."  
  
"I thought that was the time to attune our souls," Bruce couldn't help but note acerbically.  
  
Kal's smile turned a bit shy.  "I think our souls are fairly well attuned, actually."  
  
Bruce mouth was dry.  "Well, then.  It's a...date?"  
  
"Indeed.  There is one more section of our life-path that we need to discuss, of course."  
  
Bruce pulled his thoughts away from images of Kal sweating and panting under him,  "There is?"  
  
"Yes.  That of offspring."  
  
"Offs--children?"  Bruce's thought took a sharp left turn out of lurid and into confused.  "Kal, we're...both male."  
  
Kal looked mildly puzzled.  "Yes?"  
  
"That's not--I mean--"  Bruce waved his hands.  "Neither of us is female."  
  
"What difference does that make?"  Bruce would have suspected Kal was joking if he hadn't looked so sincerely puzzled.  
  
There was a long silence as both men struggled to figure out why this conversation was so surreal.  "Wait.  Stop."  Bruce rubbed his forehead.  "This might be embarrassing to you, but I want you to explain exactly how one has a child on Krypton."  
  
"Why would it be embarrassing?  When two people wish to have offspring, their DNA are combined in the House birthing matrix.  Five months later, the process is complete and a new member enters the House."  
  
"Any two people?  Male or female?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And you don't...bring the child to term within your own bodies?"  
  
Kal's face wrinkled in disgust.  "What?  You're telling me Terrans don't have birthing matrices?  That's--that's--"  
  
Bruce cut him off hastily.  "--Anyway, my point is that on Terra it's not possible for two men to have a child.  We don't have the technology to combine DNA."  
  
The disgust faded into sadness.  "If that were true, the House of Wayne would cease to exist unless you...mated," he said the word with some reluctance, "simply in order to have an heir.  This is better."  
  
Bruce grimaced.  "I didn't know I was signing up to have children as well."  
  
"The House of El cannot be allowed to cease.  It's possible," said Kal thoughtfully, "That human and Kryptonian DNA are incompatable.  In that case I would probably have offspring with my cousin, who is also of the House of El."  
  
Bruce bit back his first retort.  With sex unlinked from reproduction, and with genetic technology so advanced, there would be no moral objections to such a practice.  
  
There was so much he still didn't know about this culture.  
  
"It...offends you, to consider having offspring with me?"  Kal said somewhat wistfully, looking at his expression.  
  
"It's...not something I've ever considered," Bruce said truthfully.  "It will take some time for me to get used to the idea."  
  
Kal nodded.  "That's fair."  He stretched and rose with an air of changing the subject.  "I'll show you some Klurkor techniques tomorrow if you'll introduce me to some Terran martial arts."  
  
"I'm looking forward to it."  
  
An ambiguous turquoise glance.  "And I as well."  
  
**Day Five**  
  
Kal paused, his hand inches from the door handle, and took a few deep breaths.  He hadn't slept well, his mind roiling with unease about their planned departure from proper Kryptonian ritual.  He'd tried to tell himself that this would never be a normal Kryptonian marriage--Bruce's ignorance about birthing proved _that_ \--and so it was silly to blindly follow Kryptonian custom.  He was being adaptable.  
  
He was being a mass of jangled nerves and desire, was what he was being.  Mission be damned, all Kal knew was if he didn't get a chance to feel those hands on his body soon, in any capacity at all, he'd go mad.  This was all wrong, these emotions were entirely unseemly, these cravings entirely...un-Kryptonian.  He should walk out of this room, go to his parents and tell them that this union was impossible.  
  
He walked out of the room and went to the solarium, where Bruce was already waiting, glorious in the morning sun.   
  
Bruce smiled and Kal knew that the only thing more impossible than this union was imagining turning his back on it.  
  
"Shall we start with you telling me a little about...what was that Kryptonian martial art again?"  
  
"Klurkor."  Kal started to draw his shirt off, gesturing at Bruce to follow suit.  "Men always practice Klurkor bare-chested."  He bowed to Bruce reflexively, slightly surprised when Bruce bowed back, then approached his husband.  "The basic starting position for a Klurkor throw is..." he reached out and rested one hand on Bruce's bare right shoulder, feeling sun-warmed skin move over muscles.  He swallowed.  "Raise your left arm a little."  When Bruce did, Kal put his hand on the side of Bruce's torso, slightly under the armpit.  Then he drew the hand down along Bruce's bare side, very slowly, feeling Bruce's breath hitching under his fingers.  When he reached Bruce's clothed hip, he stopped.  "There."  
  
"What--"  Bruce took a deep breath.  "Why not just start with your...your hand there?"  
  
"It's important to align the spirits of the opponents before a throw," Kal said gravely, his fingertips still tingling with the texture of Bruce's skin beneath them.  "Now, just relax and let me..."  
  
Bruce's body was elastic and supple against him as he walked Bruce through the throw, ending up with Bruce pinned beneath him.  He got up hastily and said, "Again."  Once more he put his hands on Bruce and drew one down, slowly, achingly slowly, memorizing the feel of the skin under his fingers, every inch.   
  
Bruce's face was flushed and his eyes half-closed when Kal's hand finally reached his hip.  "Ah," he panted slightly.  "Are our spirits...aligned now?"  
  
"Oh yes," Kal said softly, and they went through the throw again.  
  
When they came up the next time, Bruce stopped him as he reached out.  "Can I try it now?"  Kal nodded, and Bruce put one hand on his shoulder, then the other just below Kal's arm.  "I need to...focus on our spirits?" he said uncertainly.  
  
"Yes," Kal said.  "Feel my essence beneath your fingertips.  Call it to battle with you."  Bruce's hand slid slowly down his side, like a trail of fire.  It might have been shaking.  
  
Or it might be him.  Kal couldn't tell anymore.  
  
Bruce executed the throw quite well for his first time, and was up and out of the pin almost before it was complete.  "One more time," he said, and put his hands on Kal again.  
  
This time his thumb trailed almost to the edge of one nipple, perhaps by accident, and Kal felt the world swimming around him.  By the time Bruce's hand reached his hip it was all he could do not to shift his body to bring it into contact with where he wanted it, where he _needed_ it.  They stood there a very long time, eyes locked, each of them breathing much more heavily than the slight exertion warranted.  "Throw me down," Kal whispered, and Bruce's hand closed on his hip for a moment, his eyes half-lidded and burning.  
  
And then they were both on the floor again, and this time Bruce didn't get up immediately.  Instead he held the pin and buried his face at the junction of Kal's neck and shoulder, shuddering.  Kal could feel Bruce's lips moving soundlessly against his skin, could feel his hips tight against him, close and taut, and felt hot shame and despair.  It was perversion, what he was doing, what he was feeling.  Sex was an action of mutual benefit to the parties involved.  It wasn't this--this hot, agonizing need that seemed about to tear him to pieces with how good it was.  It was a perversion.  
  
It was glorious.  
  
Bruce rolled away and they did the throw again, not speaking, their hands sure and warm passing along each others' bodies.  Their breaths became gasps, their gasps became moans, and the morning wore away as they touched and tumbled and pressed briefly and came apart to touch again.  
  
The lunch chime sounded as Bruce's hand was halfway down Kal's side and it took Kal a moment to remember what the sound meant, to tear himself away from the sensation of Bruce's skin on his.  He felt...very strange.  Like he hadn't been thinking at all, only feeling.  Reveling in touch, drowning in sensuality.  "Lunch," he said, surprised at how thick his voice was.  
  
Bruce's eyes were on his lips, and for a moment Kal thought his husband was going to lean in and kiss him, but he backed up a step and bowed.   < Thank you for your patience and instruction, > Bruce said, slipping into Kryptonian in order to use the high formal language.  He came back up, his eyes bright and sweat sticking damp curls of hair to his brow, and for a moment Kal thought he was about to lean in and kiss his husband.  
  
Instead, they went in to lunch.  
  
They ate in silence today as well, but not the contemplative silence of two days before.  This was a... _hungry_ silence.  Kal watched Bruce's throat move as he drank, watched his fingers on the utensils.  He couldn't stop watching, devouring every detail, every shade of sunlight on his husband's body, the exact shade of light in his eyes.  Bruce finally broke the silence:  "What's up for this afternoon?"  
  
Kal was still engrossed in watching the deftness with which his husband was peeling a piece of fruit, the scarlet rind teased away to reveal shining white flesh...he cleared his throat.  "Poetry."  
  
Bruce's face twisted in torment.  "Kal...not poetry.  Please.  I'd almost rather try and cook a meal for you."  
  
"Oh, that's not until the tenth day," Kal responded, and Bruce groaned and covered his face.  "If it helps, you may compose it in English."  
  
"Thank you," Bruce muttered sullenly.  
  
Two hours later, Kal was trying not to laugh as he watched Bruce chewing ferociously on a pen, his brow furrowed.  There was a smudge of blue ink at the corner of his mouth, and Kal felt hot as he tried not to think about pointing it out to Bruce, touching it with his finger, putting his lips to it...  
  
"Okay," Bruce said, tossing down his pen.  "I'm ready."  
  
Kal glanced down at his paper.  "You go first," he said.  
  
"Oh, no."  
  
"I showed you my art first."  
  
Bruce sighed and started to hand the paper over, but Kal shook his head.  "You're supposed to read it out loud."  
  
"Oh, for the love of--"  Bruce grimaced.  "Okay.  Okay."  He cleared his throat and lifted the paper until it hid his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, and started.  
  
_You with the dark burly hair and the breathtaking eyes,_  
_your inquiring glance that leaves me undone._  
  
_Eyes that pierce and then withdraw like a blood-stained sword,_  
_eyes with dagger lashes!_  
  
The paper rustled slightly but continued to hide Bruce's face.  
  
_Oh excruciating face! Continual light!_  
_This is where I am thrilled, here, right here._  
  
_There is no book anywhere on the matter._  
_Only as soon as I see you do I understand.  
  
_ There was a long pause.  The parchment remained lifted to hide Bruce's face.  "Bruce," Kal said softly.  "That was--was--do you really see me that way?"  
  
Bruce lowered his poem slowly and Kal could see that his cheeks were slightly red.  He opened his mouth a couple of times, closed it again.  "Yes," he finally said, simply.  
  
"It was beautiful.  Thank you."  The words seemed inadequate.  Even in Kryptonian he didn't seem to have any way to express it.  
  
Bruce bit his lip.  "I have to confess something."  He looked up at Kal and grimaced.  "I didn't write that.  It's from a poem by a Sufi poet.  Not my words."  His voice dropped almost to a whisper.  "But my feelings."  
  
"Well.  That's...what matters," Kal stammered, taken aback at the raw emotion in Bruce's voice.  
  
"Your turn," Bruce said.  Kal stared at him.  "To read your poem."  
  
"Oh!  Oh, Rao," Kal muttered.  "Right."  He exhaled slowly, looking at the piece of paper in his hands.  "I wrote it in Kryptonian, in the form of the _hal-alath._ "  His heart was pounding, his mouth dry, but it was too late to turn back.  
  
_< The white petals_  
_Of my new-picked blooms_  
_Shine in darkness._  
_I part the curtains_  
_to spill moonlight_  
_across them._  
_Soon they will blush_  
_in the dawn. >  
  
_He finished the poem in something of a rush and drew a deep, trembling breath.  Surely Bruce's Kryptonian wasn't good enough to hear the second layer of meaning in the poem, the subtle word-play around "part the curtains" and the innuendo of "moonlight"... _Please don't let him understand what I was saying,_ ran through his mind.  
  
_Please, please let him understand,_ ran through his heart.  
  
He stared down at the piece of paper, unable to meet Bruce's eyes.  There was a rustle of motion and fingers hesitantly cupped Kal's chin, drawing his face up;  Kal tried not to shiver at the touch.  "Kal.  My husband."  Bruce's eyes were gentle and worried.  "Forgive me.  I need to understand.  Sometimes you seem to want me to touch you.  Other times it seems...unwelcome.  I'm an alien, and far from home.  I need you to explain to me what's going on."  
  
"It's wrong," Kal whispered, even as he turned his face into Bruce's touch, let his lips caress the warm skin.  
  
"You said you had partners before.  Why is sex wrong after marriage and not before?"  
  
"It's not the sex," Kal said, puzzled.  "Why would you think there's anything wrong with sex?  It's a natural way to release tension and increase positive reinforcement for certain relationships.  But only a pervert would... _want_ it so much.  The...touching.  Your...your hands on me.  I--" he choked on humiliation and lust, "--I feel sick with wanting you, like it's all I can think about near you.  Your body, Rao, your body."  He nipped lightly at Bruce's fingers, tasting the skin, wanting more.  "Marriage is between minds and souls.  It's wrong to want to be naked up against you, just holding you, all against me..."  He took an almost sobbing breath.  "I'm not an animal, I swear.  It will go away, this need, I just have to be stronger--"  
  
Bruce moved his thumb very slowly along the curve of Kal's jaw, and Kal had to set his teeth to keep from crying out, keep from throwing both of them down on the floor.  "Kal," Bruce said, his voice surprisingly gentle, "Do Kryptonians often touch each other?"  
  
Kal frowned at the oddness of the question.  "Of course we must when having sex, or when on the subways and in public."  
  
"How about--hugging?  Or holding hands?"  
  
"Well.  We will give children hugs when they're hurt, or hold their hand to guide them across the street and so on."  
  
Bruce's other hand rose to cup his face.  "When was the last time your parents hugged you?"  
  
Kal tried to concentrate past the welter of sensations the touch was causing him.  "My eighth birthday."  A flicker of deep sadness on Bruce's face.  "They love me very much, Bruce.  Touching has nothing to do with love."  
  
"I can tell they love you," Bruce said softly.  "But..."  His hands were in Kal's hair now, tracing lines of delight.  "I can see it in you, the yearning to be held and touched;  you're so warm and passionate, my Kal, how could you ever live here?  How were you going to survive, with no one to hold you through the night, no one to kiss every inch of you, no one to cherish your caresses?"  
  
"I--I don't know," Kal said, the truth of it aching in his voice, and then Bruce was kissing him and there was nothing wrong about it at all, only the realization of how much he had needed it, this warmth, this connection.  
  
He pulled away to catch his breath.  "Bruce.  I have a confession to make too," he said.  
  
Bruce lifted one of his hands to his mouth, exploring the spaces between his fingers with a warm tongue.  "You plagiarized your poem too?"  
  
"No, no, that was all me," Kal said, laughing at the tickling brush of Bruce's tongue.  "But...I lied to you about Klurkor.  We don't fight shirtless.  And...we don't need to 'align our spirits' before every throw.  I just...wanted to touch you."  
  
Bruce's expression passed through incredulity and into laughter.  "You--you--"  
  
"I know," Kal said, smirking.  "I should be ashamed of myself."  
  
"No," said Bruce, leaning forward, "You shouldn't."  His hands were on Kal, his body against him, his mouth--  "Never again."  
  
**Day Thirty**  
  
Bruce glanced over at Kal, who was holding on to his hand.  The ornate carved doors in front of them started to open, and Bruce dropped his husband's hand, letting his fingers trail across the palm as he released his hold.  Kal sighed slightly, then stepped forward to meet Jor-El, Lara, and Alfred.  
  
Everyone bowed deeply.  Lara lifted her voice, her tone formal:   < Welcome back, my sons, to the world you will shape together from now.  Your Month of Sweetness is complete.  I pray that your energies are attuned and in harmony. >  She smiled, the formality broken.  < I'm glad to have you back. >  
  
< My thanks, mother.  We're glad to be back. >  
  
< Did all go well? >  
  
Kal's mouth curved slightly.  < There were some misunderstandings at the beginning, but once we got past those...we attuned our energies pretty much nonstop all month. >  His voice was studiously bland, but Bruce heard the flicker of wicked humor under it.  _Oh, my sweet, sly love._  
  
Lara smiled at Bruce and switched into English.  "Welcome back, my son.  Your foster-father has taught me a great deal about Terran cuisine!"  
  
Alfred looked sheepish.  "My apologies, Master Bruce.  I have attempted to explain to her that I am not your 'foster-father,' but she--"  
  
Lara waved an aristocratic hand.  "I prefer to use the correct term when possible, whatever you Terrans may use."  She beamed at Alfred.  "Today Mr. Pennyworth will be teaching me how to make the  beaten cream!"  
  
"Whipped cream, yes," Alfred said as they began to walk back toward the main compound.  
  
Lara dropped back to walk next to Bruce as Kal fell in beside his father, talking about something House-related.  "Bruce, I was wondering...perhaps we could go shopping tomorrow?  You need a full Kryptonian wardrobe, after all."  
  
"Uh...certainly," Bruce said, taken aback at this apparent change of heart.  Alfred had been playing P.R. agent as well as cook, it seemed.  
  
Lara glanced at Kal, walking ahead of them.  "He looks happy," she said softly to Bruce.  "My son has rarely looked so happy.  The weight of the House of El is heavy on his shoulders, I fear.  But today, he looks...content."  She smiled.  "I think attiring yourself for his aesthetic contemplation would be pleasant, don't you?"  
  
"I...yes," Bruce said.  "Yes, I'd like that."  He gestured down at the sandals she was wearing, dark leather with straps that rose to wrap her legs to the knee.  "Is that style of shoe for women only?  They're very attractive."  
  
Lara beamed.  "Men wear them also, and I believe they would look quite stunning on you.  Don't you think, Kal?" she called to her son.  "Wouldn't some sandals like mine look good on your husband?"  
  
Kal's gaze moved down his legs.  "I think he'd look breathtaking in them."  _In anything,_ his expression indicated.   
  
_Or in nothing at all,_ it hinted further.  
  
Improbably, Bruce found himself looking forward to shopping with his mother-in-law.  
  
After all, if one is going to fight crime and corruption on an alien world...why not do it in style?


	3. From This Day Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  On their honeymoon, Kal and Bruce have to overcome some cultural differences. 

  


**< Kal-El and Bruce-El's Month of Sweetness, Day Six>**

Bruce woke up abruptly and warily as the morning sunlight washed scarlet against his eyelids.  It took him a moment to relax again.  He still wasn't used to Krypton--the light, the scents, the tastes of it.  It made him uncomfortable and on edge.

Beside him, Kal-El stirred and almost fell off the bed.  Bruce felt his discomfort melting away as he looked at his husband's sleeping face, his lips parted much more sensuously than he would ever allow while awake.  The two of them in one bed at last.  Of course, it was a tiny twin bed, and they had spent much of the night almost falling off of it, but Bruce had finally been able to get his fill of touching Kal's body, tasting the inhuman warmth of it, running his hands across that silken skin.

Kal-El smiled slightly in his sleep as if responding to Bruce's thoughts, and Bruce felt his body stir into arousal.  No, he hadn't had his fill.  There was so much more he wanted.

He slipped from the bed and went to his luggage, pulling the bottle of lotion out.  They hadn't needed it last night, which had been a tangle of mouths and hands, clashing with more passion than skill.  But now...he put it on the nightstand and slipped back into bed beside Kal.

Kal made a purring noise in his throat, like a giant alien panther, and stetched his bare body up against Bruce's luxuriously.  Bruce kissed his shoulder, enjoying the play of muscles under skin.  He couldn't believe a being as sensual and warm as Kal could possibly thrive in such an austere, cerebral culture.  His husband must have been starving for touch all these years.

Bruce intended to give him a surfeit of caresses to make up for lost time.

Still half-asleep, Kal murmured with delight under Bruce's hands, his voice blurry and warm.  Bruce watched his eyes open slowly, heavy with sleep and lust intertwined, as if the lines between dream and reality were still indistinct.  "Oh," Kal sighed, "You're real.  I'm really here.  In your bed."  His smile looked almost drunk with pleasure, intoxicated with touch.  He stretched up against Bruce, twisting as if to bring every inch of himself into contact with his husband's body.  "I can't believe you like this."

"Can't believe?"  Bruce managed as he felt Kal's body pressing up against him, felt him hardening against his hips.

"You know, the..."  Kal broke off, blushing, then forced himself to say it, "...the touching."  Bruce ran his hands down his side again, caressing, and Kal groaned luxuriously.  "I always knew I was a total deviant, wanting to feel my lovers' bodies like I did.  I tried not to--mmm--to think about it too much."  He took Bruce's hand and moved it across his chest.  "Touch me more," he said lasciviously, as if it were the dirtiest thing he could imagine.

They were still rubbing and fondling much later, Kal's groans of delight becoming more and more wanton.  Bruce heard him chuckle.  "I see you brought some lube," Kal murmured against his ear.  "How lucky for us."  His tongue explored, wet and hot.  "I can't believe we still haven't even had sex yet."

"Shall we remedy that?"  Bruce said, reaching for the bottle.

Kal rolled over onto his back, his arms under his head, giving Bruce a smouldering look as Bruce opened the bottle and got his hands slippery.  Bruce leaned forward and slipped his hand between Kal's legs, slipping lower until he brushed against--

"What are you doing?" 

Bruce realized abruptly that Kal's body language had gone stiff and uninviting.  He pulled away quickly.  "I'm sorry," he said, feeling stupid for making the assumption, "I thought I'd top at first, because--"  He wasn't sure why, exactly, beyond desperately wanting to and feeling like Kal might be hesitant.  "But that was rude of me.  I don't mind if you--"

Kal's eyes were wary.  "If I _what?"_

"If you...you know.."  Bruce was starting to get the unpleasant feeling he was missing something.  He made vague motions with his hands.  "Top."

"Why were you touching me _there?"_

Bruce stopped and took a deep breath.  Time to start with the basics and avoid vague or technical language.  "In English, a 'top' is the person who penetrates during sex.  The 'bottom' is the person who is penetrated.  They can be--"

" _Penetrated?_ "  Kal pulled the blankets over himself defensively.  "Humans practice..."  He groped for the English word, then gave up, "... _shian?_ Your men stick their penis in another man's anus?"

It sounded so much less sexy when you put it that way, thought Bruce.  "That's...yes, that's one of the ways Terran men have sex."  Kal's face was wrinkled in disgust.  "I assume Kryptonian men don't do that?"

Kal shook his head vehemently.  "No one would do that!  It's not--it's not _right."_

Bruce thought rather sourly that Kryptonian culture certainly did have a lot of things it thought weren't right.  But he bit his tongue;  Kal's dismay and disgust were real, and not directed toward him personally.  "All right.  There are Terran cultures which feel the same way, that penetration if only appropriate for women."

"For _women?"_   Kal looked, if anything, even more nauseated.  "But...a woman could get _pregnant_ from doing that!  That's _horrible!_ "

 _Okay, back up further._   "So...no anal sex?  No vaginal sex?"

"Of course not!  That's..."  Kal shuddered.  "We don't...mingle our bodies like that.  It's...so intimate.  A violation."

"So it's just oral sex," Bruce said.

"No, not at all," Kal said, looking confused.  "We have _sex._ It's...you know.  No, I guess you don't."  Kal rubbed his forehead.  "It's, uh...the man puts his penis between the thighs of his lover, and...you know, moves.  That's sex."

"Mm."  Bruce nodded, pleased to at least understand the miscommunication now.  "We call that intercrural sex.  There have been cultures and places on Earth where that's been used exclusively in place of anal sex."  Kal looked shocked again, and Bruce sighed.  "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm the one who should apologize," Kal said sheepishly.  "Terran culture seems so similar sometimes, and then sometimes there's something that's just so completely alien to me.  Some of it is wonderful--like the touching--but I'm just always surprised to run into another huge difference.  I'm sorry to be rude."  He looked at Bruce, his eyes shy.  "I'm already committed to being a total pervert now, because I'm certainly not giving up the...what was that word you used for it?"

"Cuddling," said Bruce, smiling despite himself.

"Right.  I'm committed to being a cuddling pervert already, so maybe some day..."  He looked dubious yet slightly hopeful. 

Bruce smiled and leaned in to nuzzle behind Kal's ear, making his husband shudder with delight.  "No rush," he said.  "I think we can find ways to pass the time together."

**: : :**

A half hour later, Bruce was in the bathroom, washing his face.  The basin was of something that looked like wood and felt like china.  Hot water gushed into the bowl, steaming.  The rush of water reminded him of something, and after drying off he moved to the door of the inner room, peering in.

The room was made of shimmering white tile, bare except for an array of crystals on one wall.  The floor was a mosaic of blue and white tiles that formed an intricate geometric pattern.  There were no faucets or spigots to be seen, just a long horizontal hole in one wall, up near the ceiling. 

"Kal?"  Bruce's husband appeared in the doorway, and Bruce took just a moment to appreciate the sight of Kal-El in a crimson robe of something impossibly silky, trimmed with bits of gold and glinting ruby.  It might have looked ridiculous on Earth, but on Krypton--and perhaps more importantly, on _Kal_ \--it looked just right.

Kal was waiting patiently, just a hint of a smile curving his mouth, and Bruce shook his thoughts back to the here and now.  "I didn't want to ask before, what with everything being so...awkward..."  In reality he had been somewhat afraid talking about bathing would snap his fragile self-control and he'd jump Kal,  but that didn't seem to be a problem now, "...but I have no idea how to work this room here.  Is it a shower of some sort?"

Kal looked blank for a moment, his eyebrows raised.  "No one taught you how to use the showers?  How've you been--have you been washing from the sink?"

Bruce shrugged, feeling defensive.  "The sink was easy to use;  just wave my hand under the faucet.  The showers were beyond me."

Kal walked past him, his bare feet quiet on the tiled floor, and went into the inner room.  "It's pretty simple.  You touch this crystal--"  He reached out and the leftmost crystal glowed red, "--to get the water heating.  When it turns blue, the showers are ready.  The other crystals are for more complicated things like controlling the water pressure and humidity level, scenting the air, drying off and such."

"Oh."  The crystal blinked violet, then settled into a steady blue.  "So you just touch it again to--"

Kal yelped as he reached out, and a torrent of water burst from the ceiling onto both of them.

It wasn't a shower, Bruce thought bemusedly, it was a damn _waterfall._   The cascade of water was a steady, thick curtain, almost a meter wide, with enough pressure behind it to possibly knock a frailer person right off their feet.  Steam filled the room in billows and Bruce floundered to the far side of the room, away from the waterfall.  Kal was there next to him, leaning against the wall and laughing helplessly.  "I'm sorry," Kal yelled over the sound of the water, "I should have told you what to expect.  Is this not like an Earth shower?"  He'd dodged the deluge better than Bruce, but the sleeves of his robe were still soaked through.

Bruce stared admiringly at the flood of hot water.  "You must have very good water treatment systems;  Terrans could never waste water like that."

"I love the shower," Kal said almost dreamily.  "My parents used to have to drag me out of it.  I'd just stand here for ages with the pressure way up." 

For a moment Bruce could imagine a younger Kal standing in the heavy torrent, his eyes closed, reveling in the caress of water with every inch of his touch-starved body.  He felt himself grinning predatorily as he grabbed Kal's hand and pulled him under the deluge.

Kal gasped as the water sluiced over them both, instantly soaking his robe through and plastering his hair down.  "Hey," he started to say, but as Bruce pulled him close, his caresses melting into the rush of the water, his voice broke off into a greedy moan.

Wet, the scarlet robe clung to Kal's body in maddeningly delightful ways as Bruce's hands prowled across it.  Kal's hands were tugging at his pants, but Bruce couldn't seem to tear himself away from the taste and feel of wet cloth gliding over tense muscles.  "Bruce," Kal groaned, his eyelashes heavy with both mist and desire, "I want you here, now, please..."

Bruce kicked his soaked pants off without ever taking his hands off Kal's body, the torrent of water pummeling them both, making them dizzy with its roaring touch.  Bruce parted the robe just enough to reveal the wet thighs of his husband, slipping his hands between Kal's legs to caress the damp skin.  Kal shuddered, staring at Bruce's naked body, and Bruce wondered for a second if he could convince Kal to--

No.  He wasn't going to take the chance of startling his lover.  They'd do this the Kryptonian way.

He grabbed ahold of Kal's sash, pulling him over to the wall, out of the main rush of the water.  Mist was beading on Kal's lips, and Bruce kissed it away as he moved in close, pulling his body against his husband's.

Kal's legs parted just enough that Bruce's cock could slide between his thighs, the wet skin soft and silken.  Kal shifted his balance, moving his legs, and Bruce bit back a groan as he was tugged and caressed and coaxed.  Kal smiled a tiny, confident smirk and pushed back dripping hair, and Bruce thrust between his thighs, suddenly lost in the unfamiliar sensation. 

 It was...looser and more shifting than what he would consider "normal" sex, the stimulation more fleeting [](http://rai-daydreamer.livejournal.com/41319.html?#cutid1)and elusive, tantalizing.  He felt Kal's erection stiffening between them as he moved back and forth, felt the other man's balls like a silky weight above him.  He had meant to go slowly, to take his time, but it felt so _good_ , arousal chasing across his nerve endings like wildfire, demanding he thrust against the slick skin harder, faster.  He pulled Kal as close as possible, burying his head in the crook of Kal's neck, and the Kryptonian cried out, a long, shuddering moan.  _Of course,_ Bruce thought with the tiny part of his mind that wasn't completely lost in the gathering momentum, pulling them toward the edge of the inevitable like a waterfall of desire, _Kryptonians wouldn't hold each other close while doing this._   And then even that thought was gone as he sucked and bit on Kal's shoulder and Kal shuddered against him, stammering in Kryptonian, and climax as strong as a flood crashed over him.

They stepped back under the roaring fall of water together, setting it wash them clean again, Kal's hands now languid and lazy on his body.  As he touched the crystal to bring the shower to a stop, Kal murmured, "I know that wasn't what you would consider sex, but it was...very good for me."

Bruce chuckled and kissed his husband's shoulder again, ruddy and glowing with steam and afterglow.  "That was very much what I would consider sex, my Kal."

**< Day Ten>**

Kal listened to the muttered sounds coming from the tiny kitchen.  He had learned a lot of English before his marriage, but his lessons hadn't covered any of the words Bruce was saying.  Apparently his husband hadn't been exaggerating his lack of culinary prowess.

"This isn't _fair,"_ Bruce said.  "I don't even know what most of this stuff _is._   How am I supposed to make you a meal when I don't even know what all the ingredients are?"  In any other man, Kal might have called his tone "whining."  From Bruce, however, Kal would describe it as...taut with manly annoyance.

It was possible, Kal thought ruefully, that he was just a bit smitten with his new husband.

The midday chime rang, and Kal went to pick up the tray.  It only had a light snack on it, as Bruce was supposed to be making the meal.  It wasn't supposed to have any food at all;  apparently Alfred had managed to convince Kal's parents to make an exception considering the circumstances.  Kal picked up the napkin--and frowned as a small silicon chip clattered onto the floor.  "That's odd."

Bruce appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.  He was wearing the heirloom El family apron, with the traditional ruffles.  He had balked rather severely at the idea of wearing it until Kal had reminded him that no one else would see him, and that Kal found him quite sexy in it.  He had a smudge of flour in his hair.  "What is it?"

"Looks like someone has smuggled in a newschip.  That's not allowed...Father must have thought there was something I very much needed to know."

Bruce's eyes were avid.  "News?  No offense, Kal, but ten days in seclusion and I'm ravenous for some kind of outside information."

Kal nodded.  As a news reporter, he'd been feeling deprived as well.  He fed the chip into the reader in the coffee table and the day's news appeared in its three-dimensional cluster of symbols, a glimmering rose of information.  "I can't believe you can navigate that," Bruce said behind him as he picked through the news.

"It takes some getting used to," Kal said absently.  "News of a festival...improvements in anti-grav....oh." 

"What is it?"

"Jhal Farad-Ko is engaged to a Terran."

Bruce leaned over the couch, squinting at the news feed.  "Farad-Ko?  The scientist who opposed the Terra-Krypton treaty and almost had us assassinated at our wedding?"

"The very one.  I thought she'd find some way out of it, but apparently she changed her mind and decided to accept the arrangement."

His husband's steely eyes were wary.  "Who?"

"Let me see..." Kal's fingers flickered through the coding.  "A wealthy scientist--maybe that's why she changed her mind, she discovered they had a lot in common.  His name's Luthor.  Lex Luthor." [ ](http://rai-daydreamer.livejournal.com/41319.html?#cutid1)

Bruce made a small sound in the back of his throat, part alarm and part contempt.  "Damn.  I'm sure they discovered they have a _lot_ in common.  Luthor's been violently opposed to this treaty as well.  And he's as ruthless and cold-blooded as it sounds like Farad-Ko is."  He perched on the back of the couch, looking thoughtful.  "This could be a problem for us."

His scowl and faraway look clashed delightfully with the frilly apron, and Kal couldn't resist grabbing him by the ruffles and tumbling him onto the couch and his lap in a tangle of limbs.  "We can handle it," he said confidently.  "We can handle anything."

Bruce's frown melted away into affection and he wrapped his arms around Kal, pulling him into a kiss that didn't stop until the kitchen alarms informed them politely that the meal was burned beyond all possibility of salvage.

**< Day Eleven>**

Kal stretched out against Bruce in their tiny bed, feeling his husband's hands running up and down his ribcage with luxurious slowness.  He would never get enough of Bruce's touch, he thought muzzily, mind still foggy from their latest bout of lovemaking.  His parents would be appalled, his friends shocked into speechlessness, at his totally wanton behavior.  So much physical contact, skin on skin, embracing like lower creatures again and again for the sheer pleasure of caressing and being caressed.  Perversion.

Kal smiled to himself.  So be it, if perversion meant this sense of blissful peace, of joy suffused with sensuality.

Bruce hadn't pushed the...what Kal thought of as "The Other Issue," since that first time.  They had committed every kind of sexual act Kal had ever imagined, but _shian_ had remained unmentioned.  Kal still could hardly believe that Terran males allowed such a violation of their bodies. 

He had rather expected that Bruce would insist on making him submit to it, had been gritting his teeth in expectation the first few times they had had sex.  But Bruce had never once mentioned it again, had been unfailingly inventive and passionate, but never brought _shian_ up.  Never once insisted Kal try it, or even talk about it.  When his hands had skimmed over the curves of Kal's behind, it had always been a fleeting touch, never demanding, never insistent.

Kal was...relieved by this.  And yet, in moments like this, drunk on touch and warm with the aftereffects of sex, he had to admit...

No, he didn't have to admit anything.  He groaned softly as Bruce's hands drifted across him, letting his mind wander.  He didn't have to admit a thing.

"Are you falling asleep?"  Bruce's voice was amused.  "Hey, you."  He made an abrupt movement with his hands, and--suddenly, to Kal's surprise, the languid touch on his abdomen shifted to a tingling sensation that made him jackknife inward around it. 

"Wha--what?"  He demanded in shock.  "What was that?  What did you do?"

Bruce paused, one eyebrow raised.  "I just tickled you a little."

"Tickled?  What's 'tickled?'" 

Bruce blinked.  "It's...a sudden touch that triggers an automatic response in some people.  Like this," he said, reaching out to touch Kal's stomach again, his fingers crooked.

Kal yelped and writhed away from Bruce.  "That's--that's--"

"You've never been tickled before?"  Bruce's eyes gleamed, suddenly predatory, and the hands moved up to Kal's armpits without warning.

The sensation was totally different from the sensual touching he'd been savoring;  it was a sharp ripple of stimulation, neither pleasant nor painful, just intense.  Kal squeaked and tried to clamp his arms to his body, but Bruce's fingers were strong and sure, and the sharp-sweet feeling continued.  Kal convulsed and realized, to his surprise, that he seemed to be laughing, although there was nothing funny at all about the situation.  Yet he was giggling helplessly, squirming under Bruce's deft hands, and then the whole situation _did_ seem funny and he started laughing in earnest, twisting in half-hearted protest.  So many different kinds of touch, so many different sensations...

Bruce had pity on him when he began to wheeze and stopped tickling, letting Kal cautiously wipe at his watering eyes.  "That was--uh--intense," Kal said, then broke into involuntary giggles again when Bruce moved his hands, even though they were nowhere near his skin.

Bruce spread his arms wide.  "No more, I promise.  You're safe."  Kal cowered against the wall away from him in mock-terror, and he sighed.  "You'll never trust me again, will you?"

Kal reached out with one bare leg and looped it over Bruce's hip to drag him close.  "I think you've proven yourself entirely untrustworthy.  My faith in you is totally shattered."  Bruce licked at his neck and he shuddered, caught between laughter and desire, knowing he'd never trusted anyone as much as this man, this Terran, his mate from beyond the stars.

**< Day Fourteen>**

"So I... _think_ at it?"

Kal held up a sphere that looked like it was made of blown glass, shimmering with rainbow iridescence.  "It's supposed to help us get our minds in synchronization.  Our mental energies combined hold it between us in the air."

Bruce felt his brow wrinkling.  "The Terran mind might not even be compatible.  I'd hate to break it."

"It's stronger than it looks," Kal said confidently.  "Supposedly most couples can't even lift it on their first try anyway."  Before Bruce could protest again, he tossed it into the air between them.

Bruce reflexively put out a hand to catch it, then stopped in surprise as the sphere hung in the air between them.  It wavered and bobbled wildly, a demented soap bubble.  Kal whooped.  "See, I told you it would work!"

As Bruce stared, the sphere wobbled and began to lose altitude, sagging toward the ground.  "Keep thinking, Bruce!" Kal cried.

_Keep thinking?_   Bruce focused on the sphere and it stopped dropping, swinging slightly near the floor.  "What am I supposed to be thinking about?"  Bruce said a bit frantically.

"Oh," Kal said in surprise, "I didn't tell you-- _shiss_ , I keep forgetting--"  The sphere listed further toward the floor and Kal continued hurriedly,  "--Think of our relationship, of the mental field between us like a net of thought."

Bruce frowned and concentrated, imagining the sound of Kal's laughter, how that made him feel.  The sphere rebounded immediately, drifting upward until it hovered between them, glimmering.  It began to revolve very slowly, colors chasing across its surface.  Their relationship...Bruce remembered the excitement in Kal's voice when he had talked about Nightwing and Flamebird, how they could fight for justice in the forms of Kal's childhood heroes.  Their relationship--it went so far beyond marriage...it was sex and affection and friendship, the two of them as comrades and lovers, back to back, facing down injustice...

The sphere was humming now, a melodious purr, and the colors chasing across it shifted into midnight blue and crimson, twining together like two birds, bright and dark.  Kal made a soft, wordless cry of joy and recognition, and the sphere burst into light for a brief moment with a sound like a clarion, then went dark again, falling to the floor with a gentle thump.

"Most couples can't even lift it on their first try?"  Bruce asked in the sudden silence, surprised to find his voice a bit shaky.  It had been so _beautiful..._

Kal's smile was triumphant.  "I think that can put to rest any doubts about Terran and Kryptonian minds not aligning well."

**< Day Fifteen>**

The solarium was filled with warm, scarlet light.  Kal was on his stomach, naked, with Bruce's hands on his shoulders, kneading the muscles.  "You're a harsh taskmaster," Kal mumbled.  Their morning training session had been even more energetic and demanding than usual;  the exercise with the sphere had apparently filled Bruce with renewed zeal.

"At least I make it up to you later," Bruce said lightly.  The massage oil smelled of alien spices and roots;  Kal took a deep breath, savoring the scent and the touch together.  The sun was warm, Bruce's hands were warm, Kal was warm and relaxed, his mind wandering gently through no thoughts at all.  The world was narrowed down to Bruce's hands stroking his shoulders and down his back, blissful touch, nothing but the very point where skin met skin.  His husband's hands were at his sides, the long slow strokes soothing rather than tickling, and then at the small of his back.

Kal's skin seemed to be tingling wherever Bruce's hands trailed, paths of glowing ardor across his back.  He sighed, feeling the tension slowly leaving his body, leaving it heavy and languid.  He wasn't sleepy, he was drifting, floating in a haze of calm, so relaxed that it hardly registered as Bruce's hands passed over his buttocks and down to the backs of his thighs.  The wonderful warm touch eased the knotted muscles there as well, until Kal felt like his whole body was ablaze with gentle heat. 

As Bruce's hands caressed the backs of his legs, Kal slowly became aware that his generalized bliss was coalescing slowly into desire, the heat gathering at his groin with sweet fervor.  He felt his erection stir against the soft towel he was laying on, felt his hips flex very slightly against Bruce's hands.  He made a soft, wordless murmur, but was still far too relaxed to take any action.

Bruce's hands moved back up from his thighs and paused to massage Kal's behind this time, strong fingers kneading with confidence.  Distantly, Kal knew he'd been worried about this, but by now it was a drifting, faraway thought, drowned in serenity.  It was just another good sensation, warm, so good...Kal bit back a moan as Bruce's hands pushed him gently against the towel, his erection a sweet ache beneath him.  The fingers slipped over his well-oiled skin, the thumbs gently brushing the valley of his ass, so gentle...Kal felt himself raising his hips to push against the touch, urge it to slip deeper, and he heard Bruce's breath catch.  "Kal," his husband said, his voice husky.

"Mmm," said Kal.  "It's good."  After a moment, the slick, hot fingers continued to massage him, running along the cleft and slipping inside just a bit, just enough to send delicate ripples of unfamiliar sensation across Kal's body.  It wasn't enough, he thought hazily, arousal throbbing through his groin and making him feel strangely yearning.  It wasn't enough.  "Bruce," he muttered as the fingers teased lightly again and retreated, leaving him aching, "Bruce.  You can--You can--please.  Yes."

His English seemed to be slipping away somehow, but Bruce merely took a deep breath and very, very gently pushed inward with his fingers.  Kal stiffened slightly and he stopped.  "Kal?"

Kal saw in his mind again the sphere, its red and blue glowing bright, felt the flare of delight as their minds met.  He exhaled slowly and felt his body relaxing.  "Yes."

Bruce moved again, and Kal felt the pressure give way to questing sensation.  He groaned, and Bruce took a deep breath.  "Don't stop," Kal said before his husband could say anything.  "I want...oh.  I want it." Touch, more touch, he focused inward on the discomfort and pressure...discomfort that wasn't actually _that_ uncomfortable.  The sun's warmth flowed across him, their steady breaths combined, and the pressure shifted and sent a sudden twinge of sensation through his body.  He grunted in surprise and Bruce chuckled very softly. 

"Ah," said his husband.  "I was wondering if Kryptonians had something like that."

"Something like what-- _oh."_   Kal broke off as the sensation repeated itself, stronger this time, more like a pulse than a twinge.  "Ah.  That was..."

"I know," said Bruce, and did it again.  And again.

Energy throbbed through Kal's body, lancing into exquisite arousal, and he bit back a moan.  Another pulse and he didn't bother to restrain his cry at all, he couldn't possibly.  "Kal," Bruce said, his breath sounding short.  "God." 

More sweet-scented oil, more motion, and a part of Kal's brain was wincing--it was _shian_ , it was wrong, he was being violated--but he could hear his own voice asking for more, nearly begging, and he knew that was the truer part of him.  He wanted to feel his husband's weight on him like the sun, feel it filling him intimately, their bodies together more deeply than Kal had ever imagined.  "Bruce, please, I'm ready, I want it.  I want _you_ ," he stammered, his voice breaking, fragments of Kryptonian and English mingled together.

The sensation within him eased with agonizing slowness, leaving him empty and panting, listening as he heard Bruce's clothing being undone.  "Relax," said Bruce softly.  "Just breathe and relax." 

Kal breathed deeply, feeling the energy between them like yesterday's shining sphere, love held in place with desire.  He relaxed into the embrace of that energy, into his love's embrace, warm and gentle, and Bruce's weight was on him, and they were united. 

It wasn't violation, it wasn't submission, it was their bodies together, their minds together, it was joy.  Kal's body arched to meet Bruce's and Bruce gasped sharply.  His hands were in Kal's hair, his hips tight against Kal's body, and the pulse of desire was between them both, flaring bright and ardent.  "Yes," Bruce said, and Kal echoed him in Kryptonian, _Zi, zi, zi,_ and the words and passion met in the space between them and tipped them both over into climax.

Some time later, Kal pried his eyes open and met Bruce's cobalt-blue gaze.  The other man seemed concerned, even slightly worried, but Kal couldn't figure out why in the world-- _oh_. 

He searched within himself for the shame, the burning knowledge that he had perverted his body and soul...and found nothing but satisfaction.  "Thank you," he said, trying to weight the simple words with all he felt, and Bruce's worry faded into a slight smile, touched just lightly with smugness.

Kal pulled himself closer to Bruce, feeling skin against skin, savoring it.  Let others speak of perversion and depravity;  he knew the truth.  This was merely another one of the many secrets he would share with his love:  in bed, in costume, in all their life together.


	4. Forsaking All Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal and Bruce prepare to be Nightwing and Flamebird and Bruce teaches Kal something he didn't know about Kryptonian society. 

Kal-El watched his husband working across the room.  Dressed in the elaborate layers of silk and brocade that marked him as the adopted heir of one of the most powerful Families of Krypton, he was a breathtaking sight.  The dark blue jewel tones shot through with silver thread shimmered when he moved and reminded Kal of the grace and beauty hidden underneath them.

He swallowed as a surge of lust stabbed through him and looked back down at his book.  The weeks since their honeymoon ended had been...difficult.  Re-integrating into the El household after a blissful month wallowing in the total perversion of touch, the hedonistic thrill of _penetrative sex_ , had been something of a shock.  Kal would catch Bruce staring at him from across the room and know that Bruce was thinking about stroking Kal's body until he arched with pleasure, tasting and biting and gripping in an orgy of touch.  The new English words Bruce was teaching him would drift into his head unbidden, words like _suck_ and _cock_ , _ass_ and _fuck_ , and it would be all Kal could do to keep from doing something shocking, like reaching out to touch Bruce's shoulder, right there in front of his parents! 

He was truly becoming perverted.

So far he had managed to restrain himself, though their lovemaking in the evenings was sometimes frantic to the point of violence.  Other times it was languid, tender; long strokes of infinitely warm skin, a blissful dream of sensation.  Kal loved all of it.

At the moment, unfortunately, Bruce's body language spoke of frustration.  He was making marks on a piece of paper and toying with two pieces of metal, a Kryptonian alloy that had caught his attention immediately.  His eyes, however, kept drifting to the door.  Finally he put down one of the metal tubes with a sharp _clank_. 

"This is no good," he muttered.  "I can't concentrate when I know your parents might come walking in at any time."  He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.  "For a touch-phobic culture, Kryptonians certainly don't have much of a sense of privacy." 

Kal sighed.  This was becoming a definite source of tension between them.  Apparently on Earth when people closed doors--even in full daylight!--it was polite to knock before entering.  Who would have expected a culture with such lax taboos on touching would have such strict boundaries about personal space?  "What are you working on?"

Another glance at the door.  "Anti-grav units.  From your descriptions of the legends, it's clear Nightwing and Flamebird have to be able to fly, somehow.  If I can make us personal anti-grav belts we'll have a huge psychological advantage.  Tactical, too."  He placed the two metal tubes about a hands-breadth from each other;  for a moment they hovered in the air unassisted.

Kal tried to resist the urge to beam at his husband.  Tensions about personal space aside, this partnership was working out very well.  Kal was responsible for researching the nearly limitless fables and myths about the legendary Kryptonian heroes and distilling their most important qualities;  Bruce was responsible for finding some way to make those legends into reality.  "On Earth, you would have had that whole huge mansion to yourself to work in."

Bruce frowned down at the metal.  "I wasn't going to be able to use the Manor.  Too much chance of being discovered."

"You were going to have a secret lair or something?"

"Actually...there were caves under my house.  I was thinking about basing my work out of there."

Excitement rose up in Kal.  "But there's a huge network of caves running right under the compound here!  I used to sneak down there as a boy sometimes."

Bruce's eyebrows lifted.  "Really?"

"I can show you this evening if you'd like."

"I'd like that."  Bruce smiled, as if at a private joke.  "But later in the evening.  I have plans for us for the early parts."

Kal started to ask what, but at that moment his mother came bustling into the room.  Bruce hastily swept the diagrams aside for some fabric swatches, looking somewhat annoyed. 

Lara looked rather annoyed as well.  "Brucie, is it true?"

Bruce looked a little flustered, and Kal wasn't sure it was entirely an act;  the matron of the El household could be an intimidating figure.  "Is what true?"

Lara put her hands on her hips and frowned severely.  "Were you seen in public without gloves?"

Bruce grimaced.  "I forgot.  I turned right around and came back--"

"--But not before Thala Mo-Zor saw you!"  Lara made a tsking noise, then abruptly turned on Kal.  "But really it's _you_ I should be scolding, Kal.  Honestly!  Bruce at least has the excuse of being an alien.  You know perfectly well such indecent exposure will be remarked on."

Kal hung his head.  "I'm sorry, mother."

"Well, see it doesn't happen again, dear."  She cast Kal an indulgent smile, apparently mollified.  "You know we're a very tolerant household--I mean, I even go gloveless now and then in the house!  But that's indoors behavior."

Kal gave Bruce a sheepish glance as Lara swept from the room.  "I'm sorry I didn't remind you to wear the gloves."

Bruce snorted.  "Oh, I know you.  You just subconsciously wanted me to go out in public shamefully bare-handed so you could revel in knowing I was lewdly exposing myself before everyone--"  He broke off.  "Kal, you're blushing!"

"I--maybe I did, a little."  There was no denying the erotic shock he had felt when he had looked down to see Bruce's hands bare, right there on the public street;  to know that at any time Bruce could reach out and put that bare hand to his face, _skin to skin_ , under the sun and sky and in front of everyone...  "Rao, you've got such sexy hands," Kal said, staring at them.  They clenched into fists as he watched and he bit back a moan of desire.  It was so long until sunset, when they'd be safe behind doors again, free to touch and be touched...

"We definitely need to find a secret lair as soon as possible," Bruce said.

**: : :**

It was useless to sit in the room and lust after each other in vain, so they decided to take the dogs for a run in the park.  Ace, of course, was heeling perfectly, trotting alongside Bruce with an almost regimental precision, muzzle held high and ears lifted. 

Kal was suddenly pulled almost off his feet as Krypto took off after a floating bit of paper.  Bounding wildly over the grass barking, Krypto halted so suddenly Kal almost fell on top of him, then scratched himself amiably and licked Kal's face before charging back at the rather bemused Ace.

"I--uh--sorry," Kal muttered as he tried to disentangle the two dogs without ending up tangled up with Bruce as well.  Even with his hands carefully gloved, Bruce was a tempting sight.  "I never gave him much discipline as a puppy, I guess."

"I think he's charming," Bruce said with a small smile.  "I value enthusiasm.  I find it very...pettable."

"Uh," said Kal.  He was still wondering what to say that didn't involve various filthy words in English when Bruce's smile dropped away as he looked over Kal's shoulder.

Kal turned to see a man walking a huge black mastiff, wearing traditional Kryptonian robes.  Kal recognized him from the wedding photos--Lex Luthor, another of Earth's millionaire-hostages.  "Why, Bruce Wayne," the man said in English as he approached.  "Fancy running into you here."

Bruce nodded politely.  "Lex."

Krypto danced up to the new canine arrival and dropped into "let's play" position, front legs extended.  The mastiff growled.

"It's all right, Prudence," Lex said, stroking her head, and the dog subsided.  Confused, Krypto returned to Kal's side, casting sorrowful glances at the other dog.  "You'll have to forgive Prudence," Lex continued.  "Your creature there may _look_ like the same species, but she can tell he's actually alien."

"Ace seems to have no problem with him," Bruce noted, nodding at the German Shepherd, whose tail thumped gently against Krypto's side at hearing his name.

Lex's voice was silky.  "Some dogs have no sense at all, I suppose."  He nodded politely and moved past them, the mastiff following.

Krypto whined and Ace licked his ear.

"He's going to be a problem," Bruce muttered.  "There's no way he's letting this alliance hold."

"Are humans really that xenophobic?"

Bruce looked at him sideways.  "Not all of us.  But enough."

"But not all of you."

Bruce looked over to where Ace was now rolling in the grass next to Krypto.  "Not all of us."

**: : :**

The thick evening fog of Kryptonopolis was starting to gather as Kal and Bruce moved through the city streets.  Bruce wouldn't tell him where they were going, just smiled enigmatically.  "Make sure not to wear anything with the El symbol on it," he had said.  The streets were awash with hazy, mist-soaked light as the blazing illuminations of the city came to life, but Bruce turned down a darkened alley and Kal followed him, bewildered.  Bruce paused in front of an unmarked door and tapped at it rhythmically.  A small square opened in the middle of the door and a gloved hand was extended, palm up.  Kal waited for Bruce to place something in it--money, a token--but instead he was startled when Bruce reached out and lightly touched the palm with his own gloved fingers.

At the touch, the hand retreated into darkness and after a moment the door swung open.  "Let's go," said Bruce, moving inside. 

The room they entered was small and empty of people, but masks hung from hooks on the walls in bewildering profusion.  Bruce picked one off the wall--a dark blue half-domino--and put it on with a last meaningful glance at Kal, who followed suit with a deep crimson mask of his own.  Another complicated series of knocks and a new door opened..

Kal followed Bruce into a large room, a bar where various masked couples were sitting and drinking.  The room was fairly well-lit, but silent except for low music from speakers.  Other than the masks, it looked like any ordinary bar at first glance--

And then Kal looked again.

At one end of the bar, two women were sitting, gazing intently at each other.  As Kal looked, one of them reached out and stroked the long cascade of golden tresses, sliding her fingers into the fall of curls slowly, luxuriously, her fingers-- _bare fingers!--_ slipping to touch her partner's chin.  The blonde woman arched into the touch, head flung back in pleasure, and Kal's mouth went dry in shock.

Face flaming to match the mask hiding it, he looked around the room.  Most of the other inhabitants of the bar were also watching the two women, silent and intent, masked faces expressionless but body language speaking of total absorption.  As Kal watched, another couple shifted slightly to allow their arms and shoulders to press against each other, and the woman rested her hand on the man's.

For a panicked second, Kal almost bolted from this den of iniquity.  He had never imagined--never even _dreamed--_ that there were places like this, that there were even other Kryptonians who might...enjoy touching each other.  In _public._   His mind reeled.  But Bruce was already taking a seat at the bar and Kal forced his feet to move, follow his husband and sit down beside him.

Bruce slid him a drink and took a careful sip of his own.  "Would you like to go home?" he murmured under the music.

Right next to Kal, there were two men sitting side-by-side.  One was touching the other's calf with his foot, lightly but deliberately, and his partner wasn't moving away.  The foot slid up and down the silk-clad leg, up and down--Kal tore his eyes away and saw the man watching him, a small smile curving the mouth under the mask. 

Kal looked back at Bruce and shook his head slightly.

Bruce's smile was even more dizzying.

They just sat near each other for ten or fifteen minutes, nursing their drinks, watching the other couples as they brushed against each other.  Few were as brazen as the blonde and her partner, who were still attracting a lot of attention.  The blonde was tracing her partner's lips lightly with a finger, following the contours of her smile.  It was insane.  It was exhilarating.

Krypton was a whole new world to Kal tonight.

Bruce set down his drink with a deliberate air, then held his hand out in front of him.  As Kal watched, he pulled off his glove--slowly, finger by finger, exposing bare skin bit by bit.  Then the other glove, until both his hands were bare.  Kal stared at them:  the manicured nails, the dusting of hairs on the knuckles, the little brown birthmark just above his wedding ring.  His pulse thundered in his veins, even as he tried to remind himself that he'd seen these hands hundreds of times, they held no secrets for him.  But other people in the bar were looking at those bare hands, and Kal felt like standing up and saying, _Look at these hands, these hands that touch my body and bring me pleasure.  Look at how beautiful they are.  Am I not to be envied indeed?_

He was still blushing under the mask when Bruce reached out and began, with infinite delicacy, to remove his gloves in turn.

Kal froze with shock for a moment, going tense, and Bruce stopped as well, looking at him, waiting.  Kal took a deep breath and nodded slightly, and Bruce inched the gloves off his hands very slowly.  Once Kal's hands were bare, Bruce carefully twined their fingers together, skin against skin, an interlacing of pure sensuousness.  Kal's breath came short at the touch, every bit of skin tingling.  There were masks turned to face them--most of the bar seemed to be watching them now--but Kal was drowning in bliss, lost in touch.  He flexed his fingers to stroke the back of Bruce's hands.

And then Bruce lifted Kal's hand to his mouth and kissed it, lingeringly.

The room went completely still, but Kal's vision was narrowed to only Bruce's smile around his fingers, his world nothing but Bruce's touch, nothing but the need for more of it.  He pulled Bruce off his bar stool and into a full embrace, pressing his body against him, stroking his hands down his husband's back, feeling the broad shoulderblades beneath the silk.

The Kryptonians had touched each other with a clumsy but earnest deliberateness;  but Bruce was a living flame in his arms, all grace and beauty, completely artless and natural, swaying into his touch and touching in turn.  Kal wrapped his arms around his husband and held on, breathing the scent of his hair, the strange and delicious alien nuances of it.  He felt whole, he felt right.  For a long time they merely held each other, letting their bodies fit together, his hands on Bruce's hips, Bruce's arms twined around his neck.

And then Bruce's lips grazed his neck, his breath hot, and Kal's touch-drunken daze shifted abruptly into something else, something completely imperative and undeniable.  "Time to go," he muttered, standing up, taking Bruce's arm to steer him toward the door as a sigh of mixed approval and disappointment rustled around the room.

They careened out into the alley together, Kal refusing to let go of Bruce, pulling him close.  They stumbled homeward, the fog swirling around them, protecting them from prying eyes as they touched and kissed and walked hand-in-hand, shameless and joyous.

**: : :**

"Can't we light the lamp?"  Bruce voice grumbled behind him in the pitch-blackness of the cave.

"Not yet," Kal said as they picked their way along.  "Don't worry, the way should be clear.  I used to come here as a kid, I know the way by heart," he said, his voice echoing and resounding off the walls.

"It's definitely big," Bruce said. 

"We're almost to the center of the room," Kal said, skirting a rock.  "I always used to come here in the dark and then just wait for a moment in the darkness before I turned on the lamp."  He stopped and stood still, taking a deep breath;  after a moment Bruce's arms slipped around him and in the perfect, waiting darkness they simply held each other.  "All right," Kal said.  "I'm lighting the lamp.  It's going to be bright for a moment."

He had the lamp set very low because he knew what would happen, but it took his breath away as always when the light first touched the walls of the cave. 

The brilliant crystalline stalagmites caught and reflected and flung the light in a thousand infinite prisms:  sapphire, ruby, emerald, topaz.  Refracted light danced off of the rainbow-hued stones of the walls:  viridian, carnelian, lapis.  Countless colors in endless shades, an explosion of pastel and neon and deep jewel tones cascading around them, endlessly changing.

Kal stared in wonder, caught up in a web of trembling lights, blue and green and gold, orange and pink and violet.  He turned to Bruce to share the moment--and stopped in confusion.

Bruce was laughing.

His shoulders were shaking as he stared around the cave, hand clamped over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his mirth, a look of disbelief in his eyes.  "It's...not exactly what I imagined," he said after a moment, his voice trembling with laughter.

"Is there...is there a problem?"  Kal asked, feeling uneasy.  What were caves like on Terra?

Bruce was looking around the glittering cave, his laughter fading away to a smile that was slightly wry, turned inward.  He met Kal's eyes and the smile warmed. 

"No," Bruce said.  "I think it's perfect for Nightwing and Flamebird."  He looked around the vast cavern again, appraising, nodding slightly.  "Perfect for us."


	5. We Are Gathered Here Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce takes Kal to Earth for a weekend while Lex plots. 

"You'll bring back some of that white truffle oil you keep talking about, Mr. Pennyworth?"  Lara's question halted the trio as they stepped forward toward the portal.

Alfred smiled reassuringly at Kal's mother.  "Most certainly, Mrs. El."

"We're running low on chocolate, too," she said, concern creasing her brow.

"Master Bruce is unlikely to let me forget, ma'am."

Lara's attention shifted to Bruce.  "Oh Brucie.  _Must_ you go back to that horrible place?  And take my dear son with you?"  She wrung her hands almost comically.

Bruce looked like he was fighting an urge to pat her on the shoulder.  "The terms of the treaty were that for every three months on Krypton, I get a weekend back home.  It won't be so bad, _yrra._ "

Lara beamed, as she always did when Bruce called her by the affectionate term for "mother-in-law," even though his pronunciation was still (deliberately) abominable.  "Well, do make sure to bring me a present!"

"I wouldn't dream of forgetting.  I've got some perfectly _fabulous_ hats in mind for you," Bruce said, waving his hand at Lara.  For some reason it always made Bruce laugh like mad later when he acted like that in public, using words like _fabulous_ and _darling_ and making his wrists loose.  When Kal asked him why, he just shook his head, still laughing.  "It's a cultural thing," was all he'd say.

Lara cast her son one last nervous glance.  " _Do_ be careful there, Kal."

"Of course, Mother."  Kal did his best to look reluctant and sad, but the truth was he was anxious to get through the portal.  The last time he had been to Earth he had hated it--the noise, the crowds, the dirt and chaos.  But since getting to know Bruce he'd started to see a...certain appeal to some disorder.

Together the three of them stepped through the portal.

A Kryptonian's first impression of Earth was usually not so bad, actually;  the portal emerged in a fairly isolated spot in what Bruce called the Catskill Mountains.  Besides the pavilion created for arrivals, there was little all around but gently rolling hills. 

Kal fought off a wave of dizziness as he stepped off the dais;  the transition from a red to yellow sun was always a little strange.  He could feel the strange pale radiation glancing off his skin, making his nerves tingle:  an unnerving but not entirely unpleasant feeling.  Suddenly Bruce was there, slipping an arm around him to steady him, and Kal almost gasped at the casual touch, reminding himself that it was perfectly acceptable here.  "Right this way, sirs," said the attendant, who seemed not at all fazed by the sight of Bruce's arm around Kal as he led them to a car.

"They should move the portal closer to Gotham--or some city, at least," grumbled Alfred as he slid behind the wheel.  "It's still three hours until we're finally home."

"You know the portal here and the one on Krypton can't be moved," Bruce said absently as he helped Kal into the back seat.  He walked around to the other side and got in. 

Alfred rolled his eyes in the rearview mirror.  "Yes, yes.  Only one spot on each planet has the correct ley lines to sustain the energies of the portal, you've told me, sir."  He sighed slightly.  "I just would like to be home quickly."

Bruce pulled his gloves off with a flourish, then reached out to remove Kal's as well.  Even through the tinted windows, the sun seemed to be flooding Kal's senses, expanding them like ripples on a pond.  He could hear the slow, sinuous scrape of cloth on skin as the gloves came off.  He closed his eyes, focusing on controlling and limiting the vertiginous blossoming of his powers.  Bruce's heartbeat thundered in his ears, a rush of blood along veins like a river of life.  Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes slowly and found Bruce looking at him;  when their eyes met he could hear the faint whisper of Bruce's pupils dilating, a tiny rustle of desire.

"It's so much," he whispered. 

"Yes," Bruce agreed.

**: : :**

By the time they reached Gotham, Kal had overcome most of the disorientation.  Bit by bit, he felt more normal;  sounds and scents and sights weren't crashing in on him so uncontrollably.  But he wouldn't have required enhanced senses to hear Bruce's sigh of wistful happiness as they pulled through great, wrought-iron gates and onto a gravelled drive.  Soon a huge, rambling building of brown stone came into view.  "Welcome home, sir," said Alfred.

"Welcome home, Alfred," said Bruce.  He looked at Kal.  "You too, my husband."

Home.

It didn't feel exactly like home as Bruce showed him around, although the space and silence of the Manor reminded him of the great compound of the House of El.  But Bruce's stance was different here--more relaxed, less on guard.  Kal was surprised to realize that on Krypton Bruce had taken to holding himself as a Kryptonian would, and that here on Earth, in his own home, his posture was more human.  More alien.  And yet...it seemed right for him.

"First, let's change into some human clothes," Bruce said, taking him up a flight of stairs into a room with a huge oaken bed.  Kal suspected that was going to be their bed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to ask.  Bruce rummaged through a chest of drawers and came up with a brilliant red sweater.  He held it up in front of Kal, tilting his head.  "Brings out your eyes," he said.  "Try it."

The sweater was thick and soft--a little tight in the chest, but not overly so.  The strange clothing items humans wore that encased their legs were a little harder to manage, and Kal ended up almost falling over getting into them, to Bruce's amusement.  He re-arranged Kal's hair absent-mindedly, long fingers stroking.  "You look good."  Bruce was already changed into a dark gray shirt with little pearly circles on it that Bruce called "buttons."  Kal reached out and fingered one of them.  The temptation to undo it was quite strong.  How humans lived with such temptations, he did not know.

Bruce smiled and took his hand, pulling him toward the door.  "We're doing Chinese take-out tonight since Alfred hasn't had time to restock the kitchen.  It should be here any moment."

Apparently "Chinese" was a Terran word for "burn."  Kal's newly-sensitive senses went into overdrive at the mix of exotic flavors and scents;  despite the pain on his tongue and lips, he dug into another little white container.  Fortunately the little wooden sticks were rather similar to Kryptonian utensils.  "This is delicious!" he said around a mouthful of sweet, hot crunchiness.  "This General Tso must have been a great, great man."

Bruce just laughed and took another mouthful.

The tour ended in the evening, on what Bruce called a "widow's walk"--a tiny veranda at the top of the roof.  From it, Kal could see the faint twinkle of moonlight on the sea, far in the distance.  The wind sighed through the trees.  Far off, he could hear the sounds of the city, but somehow it didn't intrude on the silence all around him. 

"So let's see it," Bruce said, looking at him, and Kal startled and blushed a bit, wondering what he meant.  Bruce laughed a little.  "You can fly here, can't you?"

"Oh, you're right," Kal said.  He looked down the four stories to the ground.  "Are you sure starting from this high up is a good idea?"

"You're invulnerable too, remember?"  Bruce's eyebrows tilted wryly.

He hadn't.  "Well then."  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the alien magnetic field he could feel flowing around him, focused on letting it waft him up.

"Nice."  He opened his eyes to find himself a few feet above Bruce. 

"This isn't that hard, actually," he said, letting himself drift in the air.

"Good time to practice," said Bruce.

"Practice?"

"Well, I've almost got the anti-grav belts figured out.  The costumes are almost ready.  And I think we agree that Gim-En is almost certainly doing illegal animal breeding for his studies.  I think it's almost time for Nightwing and Flamebird to make their first appearance."  He looked at Kal, who was listing a bit.  "That won't do."

"It won't?"

"You're going to be the rebirth of a legendary hero, come back to Krypton to right wrongs and fight injustice!  You can't look like a holographic reporter."

"But I _am_ a holographic reporter," Kal said, feeling silly.

"You're Flamebird, protector of the innocent.  Say it."

"I'm...Flamebird, protector of the innocent."  It sounded weak in his ears.

Bruce crossed his arms and shook his head.  "You have to _mean_ it."  Taking a breath, he suddenly seemed to take up almost twice as much space.  His head was flung back, and when he spoke his voice seemed to boom.  "I am Nightwing, scourge of the wicked!"  He pointed at Kal imperiously.  "Somewhere on Krypton there's a man who's breeding dogs with three heads and birds with one eye, left to suffer for his twisted dedication to a false god of science!  Shall such cruelty, such injustice, be allowed to stand?  Answer me!"

Kal tried to match his tone, his posture.  "By the mercy of Yuda and the justice of Rao, it shall not!  So says Flamebird, protector of the innocent!"

Bruce tilted his head.  "Not bad.  The costume will probably help too."  He beckoned.  "Come here." 

Kal floated closer.  To his surprise, Bruce stepped off the widow's walk and into his arms.  Kal braced himself for them both to plummet to the ground...and found himself holding Bruce as lightly as a feather, with no effort at all, both of them floating lazily above the ground.

Bruce pressed closer.  "This is nice," he murmured in Kal's ear.

"Yes," Kal managed, as the riot of reaction from the contact raced through him.  Their kiss was slow and sweet and silent as the wind and moonlight around them, another slow blossom of sensuousness opening up within him, expanding from him into the strange pale air that surrounded and held and embraced them.

Earth was beautiful, Kal realized.  So beautiful.

**: : :**

_"Why are we here?"_ hissed Kal.

"I told you, I wanted to expand your cultural experiences," Bruce said, rummaging through a bag.  The sun outside was bright, turning the silky cloth structure around them into a blaze of color.  The sounds of children laughing and screaming and water pounding sand filtered through.

"I thought that meant, you know, _visiting a library_ or _studying wildlife_ or something."

Bruce snorted.  "You can think of it as studying wildlife if you like." 

"Those people out there were wearing _nothing!"_

"This isn't a nude beach, Kal.  Although we do have those as well," Bruce added as an afterthought.  "They were wearing swimsuits.  Like this one."  He tossed Kal a scrap of black cloth. 

Kal stretched the tiny piece of not-really-clothing between his hands and tried not to bolt.  Bruce looked up and seemed to take pity on him.  "Okay, that one's mine.  I brought you something a little more conservative."  He handed Kal a marginally larger handful of cloth.

"This isn't any better!"  It wouldn't even cover his _knees_ , Kal thought in despair.  And his chest would be completely bare!  He would--

Kal's train of thought derailed as he watched Bruce shimmy into his very small black swimsuit and he couldn't remember where it had been once he was done.  Now all he could think was that everyone would be able to see just about every inch of his _husband_.

Bruce seemed able to read his expression.  "I promise, Kal, I'm not going to get unduly ogled.  This isn't that unusual."

Kal swallowed.  "Bruce, there is _no planet_ on which the sight of you in that is not unusual."

Bruce blinked, then laughed.  "Cultural practice, Kal.  Get the suit on."

The sun on the sand was blazing, but not as blinding as Kal's embarrassment as the two of them left the cabana.  He stumbled along after Bruce, not daring to look up.  But then a little boy, barely old enough to walk, collided with the back of his legs and Kal got too lost in picking him up and dusting the sand off him to feel self-conscious.  The boy laughed and toddled back to his mother, and Kal realized no one was staring at them.  He raised his eyes;  they were surrounded by people all dressed like they were, all showing obscene amounts of skin, and no one seemed at all shocked.

Bruce laid out two bright blankets and they sat down on the sand.  Kal lost himself in watching the array of humanity going by, wondering at the variety, the richness of it all--every shade of color, every size and shape, people laughing and crying and flirting and arguing and touching each other as if it were perfectly normal.  It was dizzying. 

Beside him, Bruce rolled over onto his stomach with a hedonistic sigh, letting the sun bathe his back.  Kal tore his eyes away from the sight eventually and realized that somebody _was_ watching them.  A man in a swimsuit small enough to match Bruce's own was taking in the sight of Bruce dozing in the sun with an extremely appreciative smile.  As if he felt Kal's gaze on him, he looked up into Kal's eyes and his smile widened ever so slightly, enough to show teeth.  Then he went back to admiring Bruce.

Kal felt his hackles raise and had to swallow hard, aware that under that bright yellow sun his angry gaze could do more than intimidate the ogler.  Not that he seemed the least bit intimidated.  He was practically licking his lips!  Kal was just about to stand up and go over there and--

"Could you put some lotion on my back?"  Bruce's voice cut into his rage-fogged daydream.

"I'm sorry?"

"The sun's radiation will burn human skin if we're in it too long.  There's lotion in the bag for it."

"Oh."  Kal rummaged in the beach bag until he found a little tube of white lotion.  Squeezing some on his hands, he began to rub it into Bruce's back.  Bruce sighed under his kneading hands, skin glistening with lotion and sweat.

Kal glanced up and saw they were still being watched, although the man looked a little annoyed now.  Kal took a malicious pleasure in prolonging the lotion application as much as possible, running his hands over every inch of Bruce's back, caressing the shoulderblades like wings, tracing each tender knob of his spine.  He let his fingers slip under the waistband of Bruce's swimsuit just a little, then slid his hands down to smooth lotion along the backs of his legs, letting them trail across the spandex-covered curves in the interim. 

When he looked up again the man had taken out a book and was assiduously reading it, or pretending to.  Kal grinned to himself.  "Roll over," he said.

Bruce grunted.  "Can't."

"What, too relaxed?"

"After that?"  Bruce's voice had a smile in it.  "Being relaxed is not the problem at _all_."

"What-oh."  Kal started to laugh as he realized.  "You go out in public in such tiny bits of clothes, but it's taboo to have an erection?  How odd you humans are."

After a moment, Bruce snorted.  "I guess it is kind of odd when you put it that way," he said.  "But I'm still not rolling over for a while."

**: : :**

For their last night on Earth, Alfred cooked them a special dinner of Thai curry--"Since you seem to have developed a fondness for spicy foods, Master Kal," he explained.  "And a slightly more edible version for the humans at the table," he added, putting a bowl in front of Bruce.

"How much spice did you put into _his_?" Bruce asked after taking a bite, fanning his mouth melodramatically.

"You don't want to know, sir."

"No, I don't think I do," Bruce said, watching Kal wolf his portion down.

"I'm sorry we have to go so soon," Kal said between bites.  "It must be awful to have so little time here."

Bruce looked thoughtful.  "It's not as bad as you'd think.  I've got a lot of work I'm in the middle of there that I'm anxious to get back to."

"But the _food,"_ Kal said.  "And the...the freedom, the openness, the... _everythingness_ of it."

Bruce narrowed his eyes.  "Since when have you become a fan of Terran culture?"

Kal's smile was a bit sheepish.  "There are aspects to the culture that have redeeming qualities."  He sighed.  "Krypton must feel so _...narrow_ in comparison."

"There are...compensating advantages," Bruce said.  "The science, and the love of science and rationality...it's refreshing sometimes.  There's a lot less superstition than here on Earth.  It's a very enlightened, compassionate civilization in many ways."  He shot a glance at Alfred.  "And I've never been exactly a cuddly or demonstrative person, so the emotional restraint is sometimes...soothing."

"It's a shame there's so little contact between our civilizations," Kal said thoughtfully.  "There's a lot we could learn from each other."

Bruce's smile was wry.  "I wish more people agreed with you."

**: : :**

_Three weeks later_

"Shield it!  Cover it!" 

Lex Luthor clapped the lead casing back over the green rock, and Jhal Farad-Ko lowered her hand from her face.  The fervor in her eyes almost matched the glow from the crystal.  "At last," she breathed, "This will change everything."

It had taken the two scientists months of work to find the exact radiation that interacted with certain Kryptonian crystals to turn them a bilious, poisonous green that sapped the strength from Luthor's wife.  At last they had their weapon to wield against the lily-livered fools who believed peace was possible between the two races.

"We shall call it Jhalite," Luthor's wife whispered, caressing the lead shielding.  Lex had imagined something more along the lines of "Luthorium," but he was willing to give Jhal her moment of triumph.

Her opinion wouldn't matter much longer anyway.

Once they had enough of the green mineral, they would detonate a quantity of it at the Terran gate, while similarly poisoning the Kryptonian-side gate with anthrax, which had no effect on Kryptonians.  Poison those two plots of land, and no commerce would be able to get through.  Most Kryptonians would welcome the act as a blow for freedom from the dirty apes that called themselves Terrans.  The gates would never be re-built.

It would take a few more months...enough time for Luthor to figure out how to use more of this wonderful crystal technology and smuggle it through to Earth, to be waiting for him on the other side when the gates were destroyed.  And with the loot he'd taken from Krypton...well, what he could achieve on Earth would be limited only by his imagination.

Lex smiled.  He had a very vivid imagination.

"Lex?"  Jhal was frowning as her hands danced over a keyboard.  Lex growled to himself as he always did when he saw one of those damned aliens using their machines with such alacrity.  If only Kryptonian weren't such a cursedly opaque language!  The impossibility of learning it had left him far more dependent on his wife than he had ever wished.  Luckily her goals matched his, for the most part.

"You might want to see this," Jhal continued, opening up a hologram in the middle of the room.

Two masked figures hovered in mid-air above the University of Kryptonopolis.  Hovered!  Lex's attention was immediately seized.  One figure, dressed in a red tunic with ornate sleeves that dripped yellow and gold cloth like flame, held his arms aloft.  He announced something in Kryptonian, his voice like a clarion, commanding.  Jhal hastily translated into English, her voice a murmur behind Lex.  "Kryptonians!  We are here today to expose the cruelties of Gim-En!  In secret he has been twisting and tormenting animals for his own research, leaving them to suffer and die for his selfish ends."  Behind the figure, a billboard-screen lit up with images that could only have been gotten through infiltrating a laboratory.  Lex found the images intriguing, although he supposed the less scientifically-minded might find them a little stomach-turning.  The gasps of horror from the crowd below seemed to indicate he was correct.

The second figure, dressed in a form-fitting outfit of indigo and black like shadows molded to his lean and muscled frame, moved forward.  "Such abuses of the law and of compassion shall not stand.  Such crimes will be brought to light."  His voice was low, but carried easily.  "So says Nightwing, scourge of the wicked."

"So says Flamebird, protector of the innocent," said the other figure.  And with a flicker of motion they were gone.

"Nightwing and Flamebird," said Jhal behind him.  Lex turned to see her staring, eyes wide with shock.  "Nightwing and Flamebird."  Her head moved back and forth in blank negation.

Lex crossed over to her and grabbed her shoulders, shook her;  she flinched and cried out, pulling away.  "Don't be superstitious.  They're just men, just Kryptonians," he snarled.  "And we have a weapon to use against them if they come after us."

Jhal composed herself, flinging her head back, breathing deeply.  "Yes," she said.  "They're just...just men."  But there was a shadow behind her eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, and Lex knew he'd have to keep a closer eye on her in the future.

"They can't stop us, Jhal," he said.  "The link between Krypton and Earth _will_ be severed, and no one dressed up in silly costumes is going to prevent it."

**: : :**

In a cave nearby, two men in silly costumes were celebrating.  "We did it!"  Kal was jubilant, short of breath, still high on adrenaline.  He pulled Bruce into a fierce hug, the multicolored lights of the crystals painting his face with blue and red and yellow.  "Nightwing and Flamebird.  You were beautiful, so beautiful--"  his hands were in Bruce's hair, buried in shadow.  "--My beautiful dangerous alien."  His mouth traced the patterns of light on Bruce's skin, as cloth was discarded and forgotten, lost in a web of brightness.

Shadows and light shivered around them, chasing each other.  Catching each other.  Over and over.  



	6. Let No Man Put Asunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal is summoned to a meeting and discovers all is not quite as it seems on Krypton.  

< ...and this latest act by Nightwing and Flamebird shows that the two vigilantes are unlikely to be giving themselves up anytime soon.  For the Kryptonopolis News, I'm Kal-El reporting. >

Jor-El harrumphed as the news clip came to a close.  < Reckless, mad fools.  They'll destabilize Kryptonian society with their antics. >

Kal shot Bruce a quick glance, but Bruce was flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine and didn't respond to Jor-El's statement.  Of course, he wasn't supposed to understand Kryptonian at all, so he had little choice.

"Now, Jor," Lara said in English, "You must admit they've done some good as well."

Another annoyed noise from Kal's father, although he switched into English too.  "The only good thing they've done is helped Kal's career.  They'll get themselves killed, flitting around in the sky like that."

Lara sighed and clasped her hands together dramatically.  "Well, _I_ think they're rather dashing."

Bruce held up his fashion magazine.  "They seem to have inspired a whole new line of men's wear."

"Oh, let me look!"  Lara snatched the magazine from Bruce and flipped through the pages with gusto. 

"Orange and indigo seem to be the in colors of the season," Bruce said, looking at Kal.  Kal risked a glance at the pages and had a hard time not blushing at the "artist's rendition" of what Nightwing and Flamebird probably looked like without their masks.  He was definitely not that good-looking.

Although they didn't really seem to have done Bruce justice.

Lara handed Bruce the magazine back, looking thoughtful.  "I think they're doing good things.  Kryptonian society is going to have to change, Jor, you know that--"

Jor-El grunted.  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, and it won't be because some reckless daredevils risked their necks to push us across it."  He stood up and stalked from the room. 

Lara smiled after him, a little sadly.  "He's having a hard time adjusting to all these new things--these vigilantes, the contact with Terra, it all brings change.  And your father's never been comfortable with change."  She brightened.  "Did you see that a shusi restaurant has opened near the Crystal Square?"

"That's sushi, Mother," said Kal, suppressing a smile. 

Lara waved a hand dismissively.  "Whatever, I've heard it's delicious.  We should go there sometime."  She smiled at Bruce.  "Not all Kryptonians are completely opposed to change."

**: : :**

_"Zee?"_

__Kal and Bruce were shopping for appliances--with Bruce casting covetous glances at different bits of technology--when Bruce suddenly darted into the crowd.  He came back with a young woman in tow, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and a rather alarmed look on her face.  "Zatanna!" said Bruce.  "What are you doing here on Krypton?  Travel here is very restricted!"  He noticed the woman was casting glances at Kal and stopped abruptly.  "Oh, Zatanna, this is my husband Kal-El.  Kal-El, this is Zatanna Zatara, an...old friend of mine."

Zatanna didn't attempt to shake Kal's hand, which indicated she knew something about Kryptonian culture.  "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, nodding politely.

"Zee," Bruce said again, "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I could probably ask you the same," she said with a sudden, impish grin.

"Me?  I'm...married.  Learning Kryptonian culture.  Living quietly."

Zatanna shook her head, still smiling.  "Oh, Bruce, _really._ "  She raised her hands to brush aside his words.  "It's all right, I won't pry."  She leaned in close, almost touching him.  _"Eb efas,"_ she said, then turned and melted into the crowd.

"What was that all about?"  Kal felt a twinge of jealousy at how familiar they had seemed.  "What was that language at the end?"

"Zee's a magic-user," Bruce said absently.  "She speaks her spells backwards.  She and her father are two of the greatest escape artists and illusionists on Terra--but for them the magic is real as well."

Kal frowned.  "I don't know that word."

"Which one?"

"'Magic.'" 

"It's...uh..."  Bruce cast his eyes up for a second.  "I can't think of a word for it in Kryptonian.  It's...power that doesn't conform to the laws of science or nature."

Kal scoffed as they left the store and headed for home.  "There's no such thing, Bruce."

Bruce cast him a surprised, somewhat speculative glance.  "Not even in your stories?  Your legends?"

"Everything can be explained by science, Bruce," Kal said, knowing he sounded a bit pompous.

"That's interesting," Bruce murmured.  He frowned.  "She still didn't say why she was here."

When they got back to the El compound Bruce immediately started doing research on "magic," but turned up nothing at all in Kryptonian language or culture.

**: : :**

Kal looked around the meeting room, shifting in his uncomfortable seat.  The Council of Science was seated on a dais at the front of the room, Jor-El among the ten men and women seated there.  In front of the dais were the Kryptonians who had been married off to Terrans.

Kal had been called abruptly to this meeting but had no idea what it was about.  Judging from the puzzled looks on the other Kryptonian's faces, they didn't know either. 

The Council members, he noticed, looked very grave.  Kal felt a sudden moment of stammering panic--had they figured out about Nightwing and Flamebird?  But surely they would have called Bruce here as well in that case.  No, it was impossible.

But his heart was still pounding as Jor-El stood to address the group.

"My fellow Kryptonians, we are here today to give you good news, and to explain the precarious situation in which we find ourselves.  The good news is that Moka Ghil-Zha and her Terran husband have succeeded in combining their DNA to produce offspring."  A murmur went around the room;  Moka looked as surprised as everyone else.  "The matrix technicians sent word back to us today that the fetus is thriving within her birthing crystal and shows every sign of being strong and healthy."  He bowed toward Moka.  "Congratulations to you and your husband."

Turning back to the fuller assembly, he said, "Even more importantly, the fetus shows signs of being able to use... _magic._ "  He used the English word;  puzzled frowns creased the faces of the other Kryptonians.  " _Magic_ is an ability to manipulate reality in ways not bound by the laws of science."

Beside Kal, Jhal Farad-Ko snorted.  "That's impossible."

Jor-El shook his head gravely.  "I have seen this _magic_ , and I assure you it is real, and it is not science.  The human species has within them the ability--latent in most--to use this kind of power.  Kryptonians do not."  He paused and took a deep breath.  "This is why we are doomed if we do not change our ways."

"Speak clearly, Jor-El," snapped Jhal as the room erupted in chatter.  "What do you mean, doomed?"

Jor-El looked pained.  "Two decades ago, I discovered a seismic flaw at the heart of our planet.  Countermeasures were taken which we thought halted the process."  His hands clenched.  "They merely delayed it."  He raised his voice to cut over the frightened babble.  "The flaw is not scientific, it is a rift caused by _magic_ of some sort, and it can only be halted by _magic._ "  His shoulders slumped.  "We have been borrowing Terrans skilled in its use, asking them to help hold our splintering planet together.  But even with their help, we have merely slowed down the process.  We are doomed...unless we interbreed with them to create Kryptonians who can sense and use this _magic._   It seems, based on scans by the Terran magicians, that Kryptonian/Terran crossbreeds may be strong in magic, strong enough to hold our world together.  For all our sakes, we can only hope so."

Jhal Farad-Ko was on her feet.  "So you're saying that without help from Terra--"

"--Krypton will die within decades.  Yes."

Jhal seemed deeply disturbed by this;  she chewed on her lower lip, her hands clenched.  "There must be some other way," she muttered.

"I know you have hated the idea of contact with Terran culture, Jhal."  Jor-El's voice was compassionate.  "I also find the idea...upsetting.  But there is no other way.  We must begin to open up communication and interchange with Terra, to create as many chances as possible for _magic_ to enter our race's genetic makeup."

Jhal wrung her hands sharply, then turned and left the room.

The Council Chair stood as Jor-El sat down, his posture sagging.  "This meeting is adjourned," she announced.

As Kal and his father walked home, Kal cast a sideways glance at Jor-El.  "Does it upset you so much?"

Jor-El's chuckle was bleak.  "The prospect of our world exploding?  A little, yes."

"No, I mean...the idea of having grandchildren that are half-Terran.  Bruce's children."

Jor-El stopped, frowning, and looked at Kal.  "That's not it at all, Kal.  Bruce is..."  he paused as if looking for the right words, "...a fitting mate for you.  I would be proud to have his children within the House of El."  Kal blinked, surprised at Jor-El's praise.  Usually he tried to act as if Bruce weren't even there. 

His father laughed weakly at Kal's expression.  "Oh, my son.  Your mother and I aren't as--"  He broke off.  "Well, never mind that."  He turned away and resumed walking.  "I'll admit I've been resistant to the idea of interaction with Terran culture.  It's so...alien.  But my observations of Bruce, and of the brave magicians who have come from Terra to exert their energies to save a planet, for no reason than because they will not let sentient beings die..."  He sighed.  "Krypton could do worse than to join our genetic destiny to Terra's."

**: : :**

"--I refuse to go through with it!"  Jhal Farad-Ko's voice was sharp enough to rattle the beakers in their shared laboratory.  "Are you mad?  When I thought it would merely isolate the two planets, that was different.  But I will not be a party to an action that will mean the eventual doom of my entire planet, Lex!"

Lex looked around the lab at the crystal wonders he had yet to figure out, the technology still waiting to be looted.  "But we're nearly ready!  We've been planning this for nearly a year now, surely you won't back out just because--"

"--Just because it will condemn my planet to death within a few decades?"  Jhal stared at him.  "You _are_ mad!"

"The explosions will trap some of the magicians here on Krypton, they'll be able to hold the place together."  Lex didn't like the look in Jhal's eyes at all.

"It isn't enough, Lex.  If we do it now, there won't be enough humans on Krypton to affect our DNA in any meaningful way.  When the Terran magicians grow older and weaker, we'll all be doomed.  No, we must delay at _least_ another ten years.  Repugnant as it is to me, I see no other way."

Lex studied Jhal's face.  Her jaw was set in a stubborn, closed line, her eyes narrowed.  "But surely--"

Jhal's eyes snapped fury.  "If you persist in this course, I will have no choice but to report you to the authorities."

Lex sighed and let his shoulders slump.  He slowly walked over to his workbench.  "I'm sorry you feel this way, Jhal."  His hand came to rest on the lead container filled with the jagged shards of his green mineral.  His Luthorium.  "I'm really quite sorry."

**: : :**

He was lucky, Lex considered as he washed his hands later, that Kryptonians were such an insular lot.  It might be a week or two before someone came by to check on Jhal, who was known for disappearing into her lab for days at a time.  Threads of red lifted from his hands and faded into the water, and he soaped his hands one more time, contemplating his next course of action.  It was going to be more difficult to pull this off with only one person, but he was sure it could be done.

He was whistling to himself as he headed back to his drafting board.

 

 

   



	7. Till Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Nightwing and Flamebird discover Lex Luthor's evil plan and rush to stop him if possible.  

Kal was sparring with a training robot in the middle of the crystal cave.  He had stripped down to the waist and could feel sweat trickling down his back, over his collarbones.  The cave was warm today;  they hadn't been able to get the temperature controls just right.  He dodged a blow from the robot, pivoting and bending. 

On the far side of the cave, Bruce was poring over a discussion of Kryptonian and human DNA.  Or rather, he had been:  as Kal swung to counterattack he caught a glimpse of his husband watching him out of the corner of his eye.

The cave wasn't _that_ warm, so Kal had to admit he might have had other reasons for practicing half-naked--reasons that were more than justified by the look Bruce was giving him.

He threw himself forward and landed a hit on one of the robot's sensors, bringing it to a halt.  Bruce threw him a towel and Kal began to rub himself down, perhaps a bit more lasciviously than was strictly necessary.  Bruce shook his head, clearly amused by his transparent ploy, but his eyes gleamed in the glimmering light of the cave.

"I'm getting concerned about Jhal Farad-Ko," said Bruce.  "She hasn't been seen for a few days now.  Not since the council with the Kryptonian Elders."

"That's not that unusual for Jhal when she's in the middle of something," Kal pointed out.

"But you said she seemed quite upset at the news from the council.  I don't think she's likely to be thrilled at the news that genetic merging with Terrans is necessary to save Krypton."

"Nor is her husband," Kal said.

Bruce frowned.  "I think it might be time for Nightwing and Flamebird to do a little reconaissance of the Ko household."

**: : :**

Nightwing landed lightly on the wall of the compound, his midnight-blue costume blending into the shadows.  Flamebird followed, a splash of color in the dark, but as silent as his partner.

To their surprise, the laboratory was unlocked, the door open wide.  They entered cautiously;  only silence greeted them. 

One of the intruments in Flamebird's belt started to make a whining noise.  Flamebird looked surprised and pulled out a tiny crystal.  "That's strange," he said.  "This detects an unusual level of background radiation."  He walked around the lab, gesturing with the crystal.  "But nothing here seems to be causing it specifically."

"So...there was something radioactive here, but it's not here now."

Flamebird looked at his partner, his eyes wide beneath the scarlet domino mask.  "Something else is missing.  When I did an interview with Jhal a few months ago about her latest research, there were boxes right here--" he pointed to a corner of the lab, the floor still showing the marks of recent activity.  "But they're gone now."

Bruce had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.  "Do you remember what the boxes were?"

Flamebird nodded.  "They were explosives."

Bruce stood very still in the center of the room, his mind putting various things into place.  "The Gates.  They're going to try to shut down the Gates."

"But...Jhal would never allow that," said Kal.  "She may hate Terra, but she would never doom Krypton to its fate in order to keep Terrans off it."

Bruce's mouth was grim as he roamed the laboratory.  Eventually he found what he had feared and expected:  bloodstains on the floor of the bathroom, faint but distinct.  "I think she may have underestimated Luthor," he said.

"But if the explosives and the radioactive material are gone, that means..."

"--That he's making his move tonight.  Right now." 

As one, they bolted for the door.

"We've got two objectives," Nightwing said over the rush of wind as they flew toward the Gate.  "One is to keep the Gate from being shut down, of course.  But I know Luthor, and he would never destroy the Gates until he'd looted Kryptonian technology and safely fled to Earth.  So our second objective is to keep him from getting through the Gate with his loot, or he'll be able to wreak havoc on Earth."

Flamebird's fists clenched.  "I won't let him harm your home," he said.

Bruce looked down at the delicate fluting spires below them, elegant and angular.  "We'll save both of them," he said.

**: : :**

Lex finished placing the final charges.  Jhal's defection had actually made his job easier--instead of using anthrax he could just use the Luthorium here, seeding the Gate site with green radiation.  What did he care if the land was made poisonous when the whole planet would be doomed soon enough?  With this Gate gone, the Terran Gate would lead nowhere:  success.  He set the timer, giving himself enough time to pass through the Gate, then hoisted his backpack of precious crystal technology.  It was a little snug over the power suit, but there was no way he was going through without that.  It was crude, but he could perfect it back on Earth.

"Time to go, Prudence," he said, and the mastiff fell into heel as they headed for the Gate together.

"No!" yelled a voice behind him.  He turned--and cursed aloud at the sight of the two damned jackanapes descending from the sky.  Not now, now when he was so close!

"Get the bombs," said Nightwing, "I'll deal with Luthor."  The orange-clad vigilante nodded, slinging his bronze quarterstaff over his shoulder, and pulled a crystal from his belt that sparked and whined, honing in on the first of the bombs. 

"Sic him, Prudence," said Lex, and the mastiff took off after Flamebird, barking and snapping.  A distraction, but maybe enough--

Nightwing landed in front of him.  "Give it up, Luthor.  You can't succeed."

Luthor felt a grin stretching his face as he grabbed the little ray gun from his belt.  Field-testing wasn't exactly his favorite thing, but this would be satisfying.  Nightwing froze for just a moment as Lex leveled the gun.  "What you _aliens_ fail to remember is that human ingenuity and willpower can defeat you every time," he snarled.  "Taste your death, Kryptonian!" And he turned the blistering green ray on Nightwing.

His satisfaction fell away into shock as Nightwing stepped forward through the green light and slapped the gun out of his hand contemptuously.  "You'll have to do better than that," he said.  "And in the name of the High Council, I arrest you for the murder of--"

"Yes, yes," Luthor drawled, determined not to allow the alien the satisfaction of seeing him gape in astonishment at the failure of his Luthorium.  "The murder of my dear departed wife.  I confess.  And I confess to setting the bombs your confederate will never figure out soon enough to disarm, and to stranding your planet in space.  In fact, I might as well confess to destroying your whole damned planet, since you'll all be doomed after this."  He waved to a floating security camera.  "Remember this face, Krypton.  Your nemesis, Lex Luthor."  Nightwing made a growling sound in his throat.  "Nice suit," Lex said tauntingly.  "Is it made of some special Kryptonian alloy weave?"  He laughed.  "That's the problem with you Kryptonians.  You worship science, but _blindly._   You never see the full opportunities for _power_ in what you have.  Does your suit have bionics like _this?"_  

He lunged forward with a swing that could have taken the man's head off, but the vigilante dodged , catching at Luthor's armored shoulders.  "No, but it does have retractable crystal blades embedded in the gloves," Nightwing said conversationally.

Luthor couldn't help but laugh as the edges shrieked along his suit, leaving him untouched.  "Pathetic," he sneered.  "What good will those do you against a repulsor-ray?"  He placed a hand on Nightwing's chest and released a blast of good old-fashioned force directly at the other man, sending the vigilante tumbling limply through the air to slam into the ground meters away.  Luthor felt a fierce satisfaction, undermined only slightly by the slight smile on Nightwing's face before he had been thrown away.  Why--

To his horror, he felt the straps of his backpack give way.  _Retractable crystal--_

That bastard.

He heard the howl of rage just before Flamebird slammed into him, the metal quarterstaff fracturing the power pack on the back of the suit with a thud and a shower of sparks.  The suit made a sad whining noise, and Luthor could feel the limbs losing power.  As Flamebird picked him up bodily and shook him, Luthor saw the bag with its precious cargo fall to the ground.  Then Flamebird threw him through the Gate, to sprawl helpless at the very feet of the astonished guards.

**: : :**

The security cameras picked up the whole thing in dramatic three-d color, and the climax was replayed almost constantly on the news and entertainment holochannels for weeks after, the stuff of legends. 

Flamebird's frantic defusing of the last bomb was only the prelude for the moment that galvanized the planet.

Everyone saw it, everyone talked about it, an endless loop, an eternal moment: 

Flamebird flies to his wounded partner and _puts his arms around him_ , lifting him from the ground, tatters of dark blue fabric falling away from abraided flesh.  " _No!"_   Flamebird cries, anguish in his voice, bending over Nightwing, holding him close, protective arms curling around him.

Everyone remembers the moment where Nightwing's stern mouth twitches slightly, how his eyes open behind the mask.  "The bombs..." he says in his low, melodious Kryptonian with the strange lilt to it that everyone is trying to imitate now, "Is Krypton safe?"

"Yes," says Flamebird.  "Yes, love."  And then he bends his face close to his partner's and brings his lips to the other man's in a long, breathless kiss, their arms around each other, their bodies close together.  "We're safe."

**: : :**

_The Kiss That Rocked the Planet_ , said the byline, leading into another replay of the moment.  "For heaven's sake, Lara, turn that thing off," said Jor-El irritably as the doorbell rang.

Kal was on his way upstairs with a glass of water abut paused to watch his father open the door.  "Dal-Zee with the Argo City _Examiner_ ," said the brisk young man as it opened.  "You're Jor-El?"  At Jor's nod he went on, "I had heard your son-in-law went to school with Lex Luthor and I was hoping to interview him about it."

"Well, he's--"

The man continued without pause:  "And we were hoping to talk to you about the plans to allow human immigration to Krypton, combined with the purchasing of human genetic material.  As a member of the High Council, do you condone this dilution of Kryptonian genetic stock?"

Jor-El smiled politely at the reporter. "I'm afraid my son-in-law has been deeply rattled by recent events and has a bad case of the vapours. He's _very_ delicate."

Lara chimed in: "He's like a fragile little snowflake, come down from the heavens to be with us."

Her husband shot her a look:  _You're pushing it._  

"Oh, I get it," said Dal-Zee in disgust.  "Your son's going to get exclusive rights to the interview, of course.  Don't think I don't see right through you people."

He started to turn away, but Jor-El's voice stopped him.  "Oh, and on the topic of 'genetic dilution':  I think this development is not only necessary, but potentially highly beneficial to Krypton.  We've been mired in the past, insular and closed for too long."  His smile was frigid.  "You may quote me on that."

The door swung shut on the reporter's astonished face.

"Thank you," said Kal.

Jor-El grunted as they went back to the living room.  "I assume you're going upstairs to check on my oh-so-sensitive son-in-law."

"Yes."

"Well.  Tell him to hurry up and get better, I'm getting tired of running interference for him."  Jor-El waved an irritable hand at the hologram on the table, frozen at the moment where Nightwing's body lay on the ground.  "I ask you, why didn't I get a hero like that Nightwing for my son-in-law, someone willing to give his life for the safety of Krypton?  That's an alliance I could be proud of."

"Thank you," Kal said again, but Jor-El merely picked up a book and started reading it.  Lara shot him a smile as he headed up the stairs.

"I'm _fine_ , Alfred."  Kal could hear Bruce's annoyed voice as he approached their room.  "Stop fussing over me."

"I will if you promise not to push yourself, sir," said Alfred as Kal entered the room.  "I know you."

"It isn't like I can move with these damn mutts pinning me down."  Bruce was lying in bed, looking disgruntled, his chest still wrapped in bandages.  Ace was lying across his left leg, Krypto across his right.  When the dogs spotted Kal, their tails thumped the bed briefly in unison, and even Bruce looked like he wanted to smile for a moment.

Alfred sighed melodramatically and turned to Kal.  "See that he doesn't get out of bed, Master Kal," he said as he left the room.

Kal handed Bruce the glass of water.  "My father said to tell you thank you."

"I doubt he phrased it that way."

"No, but that's what he meant."  Kal sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, careful neither to jar Bruce or disarrange their dogs.  "I think I may have underestimated them."  He smoothed back Bruce's hair.  "Luthor's in jail on Earth, empty-handed.  There was some conflict over whether the Terrans would extradite him to Krypton to stand trial, but it seems the Kryptonians are willing to relinquish their claim on him in return for increased traffic between the two planets."

Bruce nodded, looking satisfied.  "Pragmatism wins out over ideology.  That's a happy ending I can get behind."

"There'll still be problems and setbacks," said Kal.

"Isn't being the pessimist generally _my_ job?"

"Someone's got to pick up the slack when you're in a relatively good mood."

Bruce snorted, but looked preoccupied as Alfred cleaned up and left the room.  Then he cleared his throat.  "Seeing as I _am_ in a relatively good mood, this might be the time to talk about...offspring."

Kal frowned.  "We don't have to have any.  There should be enough to keep the planet stable as a result of the increased cultural exchange.  And Nightwing and Flamebird will still be busy."

Bruce rubbed his forehead.  "The logistics alone are a nightmare, Kal.  There's no way I'm letting a child of mine be raised in a communal creche for the first three years of its life like Kryptonian kids.  I'm not the cuddly type, but I'd want to be in my child's life.  But even if we could re-work the terms of the contract, I know you'd have a conniption at the Terran school systems.  I wouldn't even blame you.  We'd have to work out some kind of time-sharing between the planets.  And any time we spent on Terra...raising super-powered kids would be a nightmare I couldn't even begin to imagine.  I never saw myself raising any kind of kids!  And we'd need new identities if we wanted to continue the crime-fighting on Terra, Nightwing and Flamebird are too well-known here--assuming--"

"Of course," said Kal.

"And then what if they were sensitive to magic as well?"  Bruce shook his head.  "A super-powered magician baby, that would be _no trouble at all_ , I'm sure.  I don't think even Alfred could keep a magic-using Kryptonian in line.  It would take a genius-level strategist to run a household like that," he said, throwing his hands in the air.

At his movement, Ace and Krypto jumped up to try and lick his face;  Kal tried to pull them off his injured husband, and they ended up in a pile of dog and Kryptonian on the floor.  Bruce peered down at the wriggling, barking, cursing tangle.  "You can't even keep our _dogs_ in line," he said.

But he was smiling.

 


	8. As Long as We Both Shall Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an ordinary day in the lives of Kal-El and Bruce-El, sixteen years later.

_Sixteen years in the future_

"Will you be going on patrol tonight, Cir?" 

"Honestly, Father!  I told you before I'm on Rift Duty tonight."  The young woman with the tousled black hair rolled her eyes in the universal language of teenagers exasperated with their parents.

Bruce made a small huffing noise, as was expected of him.  "They put you on Rift Duty too often."

"Zatanna says I'm one of the most talented young magicians on the team."  Cir's pride was self-evident.

"You tell Zatanna not to let you get a swelled head," Bruce warned, and his daughter stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'll be back on patrol next week, I promise."  She paused to drop a brief kiss on Bruce's head and grab one of Alfred's cookies before heading out the door, almost bowling over Kal on the way out.  "Sorry, _Ukr_!" she called back as she ran out the door.

"Where does she get all that energy from?" Kal said wonderingly.  "She'll be on Rift Duty all week and I bet she'll still outpace us as Moon Talon."

Bruce tried not to look too proud;  it would be unseemly.  "She said Zatanna was pleased with her."

"Of course she is," Kal said a bit smugly.

The vis-screen flickered to life:  _"Incoming call from Terra,"_ the computer voice intoned. 

Kal hurried to the screen as it resolved into the figure of a young man with close-cropped black hair and a face perhaps more pugnacious than strictly handsome.  " _Ukr!_ " Kon said as he spotted Kal.  "Thought you'd like to know we put Luthor away again.  He's done some cool modifications to his power suit.  Is Dad there?"

Bruce stood to let his son see him.  "Did you get any details?"

Kon looked slightly abashed.  "Aw, Dad, you know I don't notice stuff like that in the middle of a battle."  He brightened.  "But Tim made some sketches of the new design, I'll have him send them along when he's done."

"Did you get hurt?"  Kal asked.

"Nah, are you kidding me?  I grabbed him by the ankles and we did a few loop-de-loops.  And then--well, I admit he kind of got a couple of good shots in, but Dick used one of those bolo-things he's got and that hobbled him pretty good.  And then Barbara finally hacked into his armor systems and that was it, game over.  He sends his regards as always," Kon said, laughing.

"I bet he does," chuckled Kal. 

Bruce watched as they continued to swap stories of recent battles, wondering not for the first time how it worked out that their son, so much like his Kryptonian parent, loved Earth so dearly, while their quiet, intense, driven daughter was Kryptonian to her core.  Genetics were strange.

Kon signed off with a promise to Bruce to send Tim's sketches along and a promise to Kal to come back for Lara's birthday next week.  Kal promised in return that Superman and Batman would be on patrol on Earth after the birthday party.  He sighed as he stepped away from the vis-screen, and Bruce managed to keep from rolling his eyes.  _Here it comes again._

"I just don't like to think of Kon running around with that gang of his," Kal said.

"They're hardly a 'gang,'" Bruce said patiently. 

"They seem so young.  Even that faux-Nightwing is barely out of college."

"There's nothing 'faux' about Dick," Bruce said, taking Kal's hand and leading him to the couch.  "He chose his name in honor of us, and he lives up to it every day.  I couldn't ask for a better namesake."  He pulled Kal down onto the couch with him, lying down and tangling their legs together.  "You worry too much."

" _I_ worry too much?  You're the one who had to be stopped from planting bugs in all of Kon's clothing."

"That was years ago," Bruce said airily.  "I'm totally over that now."

"Or you still haven't figured out how to keep him or Barbara from detecting them."

"Well...that too."

Kal laughed and kissed Bruce's neck.  "They're good kids.  We're lucky."  His kisses trailed a bit lower, and then his hands joined in.  Bruce wrapped his legs around Kal and pulled him closer, and for a while there was nothing but small sounds of pleasure in the darkening room.

Then a light suddenly streamed in through the skylight, and both of them sat up hurriedly.  A beam of light split the sky, filling it with a bright symbol:  a circle like a yin-yang sign, with a blue curved wing on one side and a crimson flame on the other. 

"Shall we?"  said Bruce.

Kal's smile was fierce.  "Of course."

Together they ran from the room.


	9. Deck the Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal-El comes to Earth for Christmas, but finds certain things...unnerving. A little holiday Vignette!

Terran music was playing, something about a large herbivore with a luminous nose which made him an object of mockery? Kal-El of Krypton sighed. His husband’s culture was a mystery at the best of times--but then, he had had few chances to experience it directly. Bruce’s visits to his home planet were--of legal necessity--infrequent, and this was only his second time back since his marriage to Kal.

“Krypton certainly scored a coup when they got our best and brightest as hostages for Earth’s good behavior!”

“That’s true--and they also got Brucie!”

The two Terrans males snickered loudly and Kal shot Bruce a quick glance, but Bruce was clearly not going to pay any attention to them. He was absorbed in conversation with a group of men about his age. Kal knew he was trying to encourage greater openness between Kryptonian and Terran cultures, but Kal had the distinct impression that some of the people he was talking to were more interested in the speaker than the speech.

Kal wandered around the room, making small talk about Krypton with some of the people who seemed friendly, trying some of the food, and listening to the music. It had shifted to a jaunty tune about a sentient snow-creature, and Kal was growing increasingly confused about this holiday. At least it was cold outside, which meant that people were wearing more clothing than the last time he had come to Earth. He still hadn’t recovered from the experience of seeing mostly-naked people just laying around on the beach--and he _certainly_ hadn’t recovered from seeing an entire beach full of people have the opportunity to ogle his husband.

He was glad Bruce was fully dressed, but he did rather wish people wouldn't stand so _close_ to him. Or look at him in quite that way.

He was nibbling on a piece of something sweet and sugary when his eyes went to the doorway and he stopped dead, staring in shock. Moments later he was tugging on Bruce’s arm, pulling him away from his conversational partner: “Bruce, you remember how you warned me about sex pollen? I think there’s some here!”

Bruce’s eyes widened at his hissed words, and he looked around the room. “I don’t see any problem,” he said after a moment.

“You don’t see--Rao, it’s right there in the doorway!” Kal gestured with his eyes, not wanting to look too conspicuous. “That plant hanging up over the door--it appears to be compelling people to embrace openly in public!”

Bruce covered his mouth with his hand--Kal assumed in shock and horror--as Roni Vreeland and her well-muscled date stopped in the door, put their arms around each other and kissed for a long moment. Right in front of everyone! 

"Is it mind control? Pheremones?" whispered Kal.

"No," Bruce whispered back. "It's mistletoe."

This required a long explanation, which Kal received with at first shock, then horror, then a sort of confused numbness. "People will really do something that intimate in front of strangers?"

Bruce jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. "You kissed me on planet-wide Kryptonian holovision, you may remember."

"That was _different--_ I thought you were _dying_ ," Kal protested. "This is so casual," he said, shuddering as another couple passed under the little plant and kissed.

"Sometimes a little casual intimacy can be fun," said Bruce. He leaned closer to Kal and dropped his voice. "Nothing too intense, just enough to remind people that at the end of the day, you're the one who'll be getting a great deal more of me." 

Kal blinked at him. "That's--"

"And I'd be _just_ enthusiastic enough that it would leave no doubt that I am completely content being your husband and that no one in either of our worlds attracts me like you do."

Kal swallowed. "Perhaps I begin to see the appeal," he said.

Bruce smiled and gestured at the doorway. "I'm game if you are."

Considering Bruce had to deal with Kryptonian culture every day, Kal rather felt he owed it to him to be adventurous during his brief visits to Earth, he told himself as he let Bruce tug him toward the doorway.

It had nothing at all to do with the fact that various people of both genders were eyeing Bruce with an unnerving intensity.

They reached the doorway and Bruce pulled him under the little plant. Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed Kal lightly on the lips, a quick, almost chaste peck.

As he started to pull away, Kal grabbed him and dragged him back into the kiss, deepening it and throwing his arms around him until they both fell back against the door jamb in delicious disarray.

Bruce was panting slightly as the kiss eventually broke, and his eyes were bright. "You might be getting the hang of this public affection thing," he said under a smattering of applause--none of it from the people who had been ogling Bruce, Kal noted with satisfaction as they drifted off with disappointed faces.

"I conclude that it does have its advantages," Kal said smugly.

This time Kal kissed him first.


End file.
